To Be Hungry
by Mishafer
Summary: Gareth and his people were forever changed by the events of the occupation, and now that they've reclaimed their home, they must walk a thin line between monster and human. This prequel focuses on the dynamics and progression of Terminus, Gareth, and several other Terminants we hardly knew. Turns AU in Part Two: Fear The Hunters.
1. Famine

**A/N: **This work is for those of us who wished the Terminus storyline had gotten 1000x more exploration. Chapters one and two are mostly a basic back story of how their turn to cannibalism began. The more in-depth stuff begins in chapter three. They're written somewhat like episodes. The POV alternates between some of the other Terminants, but mostly told from Gareth's POV.

This story began on a whim and was experimental at the time. I hadn't yet found my footing when it came to writing. Therefore, some of the pacing and omniscient to limited third person POV may be a bit odd to read. Also, chapters 1-9 have been majorly edited and the writing improved. I'm in the slow process of polishing this entire work. And at some point in the future, I will most likely add/insert a few chapters to further flesh things out as well.

_Read on and review if you wish!_

Last updated this summary on December 10, 2015

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><p>The vast majority of people don't know what hunger feels like. When they say "I'm starving," they mean they skipped breakfast and have an appetite for steak and potatoes for dinner. They say "I'm famished," when they crave an ice cream sundae and get a stomach ache when they eat their fill of it. They think hunger is a feeling you get in your stomach, your throat and your mouth. They think hunger is just craving a taste and texture on your tongue, but they don't know what hunger truly is.<p>

Hunger is when the pangs you feel gnawing away in your gut, the ravenous want you experience when you smell something cooking, the way you can almost feel and taste food on your tongue, consumes your whole body. Your entire body screams for nourishment. It _hurts_.

* * *

><p>"Do it. Alex, <em>we talked about this<em>. Don't hesitate, you know _they_ wouldn't," Gareth ordered. Alex gave a sheepish nod a

nd struck the blade into the man's knee. "No! Not there," Gareth said, irritated, "it's harder to get it through. Let me show you."

"Sorry if my knowledge of how to dismember a human leg ain't in tip-top shape." Alex intended his sentence to be an insult, a snap at the guy lecturing him on how to be a butcher, but his voice shook with every word.

_The hell is he doing this? How's he being so cool about this?_ Alex thought.

Alex was still in shock over the events that occurred over the past few weeks and in the past several hours. He felt as if he might fall to the floor at any second and be unable to move. Yet somehow he kept his body in motion. Somehow he kept breathing and thinking, he managed to continue to understand the words that were being spoken to him. And he continued doing what his brother told him to do, what they'd discussed in the traincar. As long as it kept his heart beating, he'd do it.

Gareth ignored his brother's remark and stepped over to the man's body, taking the knife from Alex's hand.

"Gareth, show _me_," Theresa spoke up from the side of the room.

Theresa had spent the previous weeks being raped repeatedly by the men who'd taken them hostage. The one who lay dead before them, his head torn in half down the middle from the same knife Alex was using to cut his leg off, had been one of her main offenders.

"I have to show Alex."

"Show him on the next one. _He's_ mine," Theresa said, her voice stern. It was the first time her voice hadn't cracked during a sentence in weeks.

Gareth recalled her screams during her assault. Her broken, watery eyes and filth-covered face. The way she buried her head in her arms and curled up into a ball each time she was thrown back into the train car.

Most of the occupiers, the rapists and killers who'd mangled their home, their lives, their bodies and their minds, were finally dead. Gareth was right, they _could_ take it back. And they did. Knives plucked out of holsters, guns stolen, messily sprayed bullets taking out three of them at once. It was precarious at first, they lost two more of their people during the attack, but they won.

"Gareth, let her," Alex said. Gareth met Alex's eyes, then looked down at the mangled body before him.

Gareth figured Alex was probably right, that letting her be the one to execute this task would be good for her. Therapeutic.

"Okay," Gareth agreed. Theresa moved over to them and accepted the knife Gareth extended handle-first to her.

What followed were the harsh sounds of flesh being cut, cartilage being ripped, and bones crackling under a gnawed on by a knife that wasn't made for cutting meat or bone. Blood poured from the incision and formed a thick, glossy pool underneath the man's leg. Theresa's precision and focus surprised Gareth, making him regret having thought her of her as porcelain doll who could break at any moment.

Theresa stood up, holding the knife at her side, the blade coated in blood that dripped off the tip creating dark red spots on the concrete floor below her.

She turned and faced Gareth and Alex with a confident expression. "There. Now what?"

"We strip the skin," Gareth answered.

Alex could feel his empty stomach churn at the sight of what he'd just witnessed, despite the fact that he'd killed one of the occupying men just an hour earlier, the first living person he'd ever killed. He didn't hold back in that moment either, no one did. They'd taken them out like they were bottles at a carnival toss game. Yet this was different. This was slow, it was planned, and he knew the insides of the bloodied leg he saw on the concrete were going to be inside of his stomach.

"Alex, don't be the cattle. We talked about this," Gareth reminded his brother of the words they had exchanged, causing Alex to realize he had seen the shock on his face.

"I'm sorry," Alex said. He meant it. He knew this is what they had to do to survive, there was nothing out there for them to eat.

_"We can't go out there, as weak and hurt as we are. We're starving. We are literally starving. We have to do this, I'm sorry, but it has to be this way,"_ Gareth had said to Alex, Mary, Theresa and the others in the train car.

Gareth faced Alex, and took his trembling hands in his own and looked him dead in the eyes. "Hey, look at me. This will be easier when we cook it. When you smell cooked meat it'll have all been worth it."

Alex nodded, he knew it was the truth. In spite of his nausea, he was hungry, agonizingly hungry. And as Gareth had said, they were weak, this action is all they could muster on their thin and empty bodies. They'd already been going hungry before the men came. The runs they made came back empty and the animals they caught hadn't been near enough to feed all of them.

"You saw how Theresa did it. She was focused, you can do that too. You know you can." Gareth gave the slightest hint of a warm smile at the end of his sentence. The kind of smile that frequently accompanied a pep-talk that he had given Alex throughout his life.

_"Alex, she likes you. Go talk to her,"_ Gareth had said to him when they were in highschool and Alex had a large crush on the red-head on the debate team.

_"Alex, you'll be okay. It's just a broken leg,"_ Gareth had said to him after a car accident in his early twenties.

In that moment, Alex felt a rush of comfort. He had worried his brother was gone, he had barely recognized the person before him, giving directions on how to butcher a dead man. Although the smile he saw, and the way Gareth held his hands, he saw some of his brother, the real Gareth, come back.

"Why are we stripping the skin?" Theresa broke into their exchange.

Gareth released his grip on Alex's hands and turned to Theresa. "Human skin is thick and tough. It's not like chicken where you can leave the skins on," he replied.

The mention of chicken meat, just the idea, sent shock waves throughout the three of them. The universal hunger for any nutrition is hard enough, but the specific cravings are the worst. They're the ones that invade your head and stick in your throat. They're the ones that are so loud and so urgent you can't ignore them, you can't even sleep. They're the ones that scream and throw themselves around like a madman in a padded cell.

Meat. They needed meat.


	2. Apex Predator

Eight of the thirteen men who had taken Terminus were now dead and in the process of being butchered. The other five, including their leader, had been forced inside the same train car Gareth and his family had shared for weeks. Some of Gareth's people had protested, expressing their desire to kill the rest of them now, but he reminded them that they needed to keep their meat fresh. Mary had suggested letting them starve to death, which Gareth considered. The idea of their leader dying a slow and painful death grew gradually more appealing. However, it was a decision he felt was irrelevant at the current time.

Meanwhile, people had discovered the mass grave the Occupiers had dug in the back of the complex to dump the bodies of Terminants they'd slaughtered. The men had barely even tried to cover it. Most of the survivors ventured to the pit, looking for dead loved ones. Some of the others begged them not to, saying it would be better to leave them and spare their wrecked minds the sight of it. They didn't listen.

Digging through the dirt and putrid smell of decomposition, they found their mother, or father, or brother, or husband, or child, thrown away like a broken toy. The fallen all had head wounds, some to the extent that they were unrecognizable, but none had turned. The Occupiers at least had had that much sense.

Gareth said to leave them there, that they would re-place their bodies in rows and take personal effects later. Mourning and proper burials had to wait until they had eaten.

"Damn, you just chopped him on the ground?" Gavin, a survivor, said.

"I told you guys to go at it as soon as possible and I wanted to get it over with," Gareth replied. "Theresa needed some therapy so I let _her_ go at it first. I was going to get Alex to do it, but..." He attempted to form his thoughts about Alex's actions. "...he's still hesitant. I thought getting him to do it right then and there would help, but he didn't even know where to cut."

Part of him felt bad for having to make Alex of all people do these things, but he couldn't have him faltering, not now.

"Did you get everyone? Did you get the people out of the pit?" Gareth asked.

"Yeah, but one of them, he didn't want to go. It was Albert, he... he said he wanted to die right then and there. But I dragged his ass out."

_Oh Albert_, Gareth thought.

Albert's entire family was now dead. His mother, two sisters, and father were all now residents of the mass grave. He was only sixteen years-old and Gareth thought him one of the most kindhearted of anyone in the place. He decided it best to keep Albert away from the knives and have him sit out their impending task.

"Your mom's she's—she's cleanin' him up right now," Gavin added.

Gareth then wondered where they were and how Mary was doing. He hadn't seen his mother in some time, he'd been too preoccupied with Alex and Theresa.

They had moved the eight bodies into one room; some still lay on the floor, and some on tables. The sights of naked flesh, glazed over eyes of the dead, blood dripping onto the floor, organs discarded into orange plastic containers, the dirty and the still weak people slicing and stripping away their tormenter's bodies, didn't faze Gareth at all. This was business. One man even brought his blood-coated hand up to his mouth and inserted his index and middle fingers inside, licking the liquid clean-off.

Theresa had taken to dismembering the man whose leg she had taken off earlier, still with the same focus and precision. So lost in her work, she looked as if she were assembling a puzzle and was nearing completion. Upon closer inspection, he saw she had removed the man's genitals, for obvious reasons he assumed. Good, he figured she deserved more therapy.

He thought he might see a sea of horrified and squeamish people, yet instead he saw hunger coupled with determination. Pride welled-up inside of him.

The task they were performing was, however, messy. Sloppiness was not Gareth's style, he preferred regulation and order, but this had to do for the time being.

Gareth approached one table where a man was cutting off one of the Occupiers' leg at the hip, and gazed at the body before him. He didn't see the person who'd laughed at them, who'd assaulted them, who tried to pass off a jar of his own urine as water for them to drink as he cackled when they took a sip and realized it wasn't water. He simply saw meat.

They were not men, not people, not monsters, not murderers or rapists, they were meat. The one in front of him's flesh was a ripe, pink color inside. And the white and grey fat that filled the thighs made Gareth come close to salivating.

_Looks like gristle on a ham steak_, he thought.

The hunger overwhelmed everything. It even took priority over the trauma they had just endured and definitely over all flimsy notions of morality. Gareth felt the pressure of excitement build in his chest knowing he was going to eat, everyone did. They anticipated their upcoming meal as kids anticipate Christmas morning.

Quite a bit of time had passed since anyone had brought up the elephant in the room. '_We're becoming cannibals_,' seemed to have slipped their minds. The fear and the disgust was gone, it was like a switch had flipped. The shadows that hid the taboos and the things you were never supposed to talk about, and certainly not ever do, were now fully illuminated. Knowing that the person standing next to them could fill their stomach as easily as a cow or a chicken felt as if they'd learned a secret that had been hidden in plain sight all their life.

Gareth then spotted Alex in the corner where he stripped the skin off a torso. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and met his brother where he stood in front of a steel table.

"Want me to help?" Gareth asked.

Alex looked up, having not realized his brother was there until he spoke. "Huh? No uh, Gavin showed me. He used to be a hunter and all, so..." He then broke his brother's gaze and returned to his work. The switch looked to have flipped for him too.

Gareth noticed they didn't even need his help, they'd begun without him. He wasn't averse to helping any of them strip the skin off of the man who'd stepped on a child's face, but he saw that he didn't need to. Gavin, being a former hunter, had directed the people who had been chosen to butcher how to separate what's edible from what's not, and had them throw it in the designated buckets for transport.

"I used to butcher the deer me and my dad caught, I know how to do this," A man by the name of Wesley said to Gavin, who was also hard at work.

"Yeah, well you're gettin' blood everywhere. Your dad teach you that?" Gavin snapped back at him.

"Hey! Guys, shut up. We're not getting any less hungry," Gareth yelled. They promptly complied.

* * *

><p>The air outside was dry, the sky clear, and the temperature crisp. Gareth said it was a perfect night for a fire.<p>

There had not been enough fuel left for the grill, being that they were low on all resources as the Occupiers had used up every one they could find. Instead, they gathered wood, matches, and the steel grate from a grill to build their fire and cookery.

Gathered around the roaring flames, they ate in silence. Some sat in chairs, benches, logs, while others perched on tables. A few just stationed themselves around the fire, eating with their hands.

The sound of the crackling fire, the smacking of lips, licking of fingers, gulps of water in between bites, clash of bones tossed together in a clumsy pile, and the faint chirp of crickets was all that could be heard.

The meat tasted like victory, the flavor exploding on their tongues like lightning that branched out across the sky. It was rich, so rich that it almost caused a few of them to gag. Gareth told them to go easy, not to eat too much regardless of their desire to eat until their stomachs burst. He informed them of re-feeding syndrome and how the body, despite its starvation, can't handle such an amount so soon.

It was hard to do, painfully hard. Despite the repercussions of eating too much too fast, such an appetite still has no limit. It won't stop wanting to devour everything in sight even if your insides ache from fullness and you can barely stand yourself up. As long as one is starving, that appetite will be there. As if there were vacuum inside, yearning and pining to be filled.

Yet they obeyed, eating as much and as little as Gareth said, none of them were going to go against him now. There had been whispers before about who would lead when they got out. A few, unbeknownst to Gareth, said they'd follow behind him until they got things taken care of and then see 'how long it takes for him to crack.'

Those people weren't thinking this now. They were too thankful, too sated from the meat and too tired from fighting the Occupiers to want to fight each other.

Gareth sat in between his mother and brother in front of the fire, who both chewed on a piece of rib meat that still clung to the bone. Gareth had already finished his rib and was sucking on the bone, eyes closed, attempting to get every last bit of flavor off of it. The sound of his teeth scraping against the hard, white calcium filled his head.

"It does taste like pork." He broke the silence as he tossed the stripped rib bone into the discard pile. It made an especially loud, empty clank as it hit the other assortment of bones. The rest of the group then raised their heads to him.

"Haven't you ever read that? Tribes who'd eaten people in places like Papua New Guinea, when they were asked what kind of meat tastes most like human, they said pork. Apparently, they were right."

"Yeah, it does," Theresa murmured, a look of realization on her face.

Theresa lay against Mary's shoulder as Mary ran her hands through her hair. The experience already appeared to have changed both of them for the better. When they were trapped in the train car, Theresa wouldn't let anyone touch her, not even for comfort. Mary had attempted to wrap her arm around her at one point, but Theresa flinched and struck Mary across the face. Mary wasn't mad at her action, she understood and backed away.

Gareth's face then fell serious as he gazed into the fire. "I think we should keep doing this. I mean, after we finish off the rest of them."

He knew what he was suggesting they do, the morally reprehensible act he was about to say they partake in. That they capture people who may not be murderers and rapists, who have committed no crime against them, and kill them, strip their skin, butcher, cook, and eat them.

"There's still good people out there, Gareth," Alex said.

"I don't care," he replied.

Gareth couldn't care if they were good people or not—not anymore—because now they were potential dinner. He had cared, very much so, that's why he and others insisted they put up the signs. Yet where that open-armed invitation had gotten him, all of them, wasn't the right answer. Something needed to change other than more guns and less trust of strangers.

Since he was one of the main catalysts in bringing people in, he felt it was on him. The good people he believed existed did show up, were welcomed with open arms, and contributed to the community. Now, many of those good people lay rotting in a mass grave.

_Good people_. He couldn't comprehend what the words meant anymore.

It was then that it dawned on him they had had a reliable food source all along. The people who arrived at Terminus the whole time had all been ripe for the picking. Now, in turn, he realized how naive they had been before. They had let those cattle stream in until eventually butchers got wind there was a place full of vulnerable livestock to toy with and kill.

He had seen how well they executed this together, performing as a collective and getting the job done. It would suffice as the answer he felt they needed. At least for now.

"I don't care if they're 'good' or not. They're not us," Gareth began. "We're obviously capable of doing this. And look, as broken as we are, as a whole we came together to do this, and we're _alive_. This _will work_. Guys, we can feed ourselves again." The corners of his mouth twitched up at his last words.

"God, then how does that make us better than them, Gareth?" A woman demanded.

He fixed his eyes on her wide and fearful ones. "They did that for _fun_. They actually _laughed_ as they did it. We're not laughing are we, Priscilla?" he replied, staring her dead-on, trying to convince himself just as much as everyone else.

"Look what they did," Mary said as she gave a weak gesture to the tattered home around them. "It's over, the world and the way it was is gone. This is the only way. Now, you all have to know this." She had been vehemently on Gareth's side ever since he first shared his idea to cannibalize their captors.

"You said we'd do this just once," Theresa interjected.

Gareth nodded. "I know, I know, but we already have a way to draw them in. We can keep the signs up and they'll keep coming. This works, it does, obviously. I mean, we're not dead. It's either that or move and be reduced to scavengers again and we can't do that, guys. Do you really, _really_ want to waste your time feeling bad about people you don't know? Really?"

"The hell would that make us then?" Alex asked. "That ain't what this place is about. It's..." he trailed off, setting his jaw.

Gareth lifted his hand up and rubbed his sleepy eye. "I don't care, I don't care," he muttered as he brought his arm back down and rested it on his knee.

"Then what do we do with 'em? Say 'hi there bud, sorry, but this is a trap you're about to be tossed on the grill?" Gavin asked.

"Put them in the traincars. They'll never suspect anything when they get here," Albert half-muttered.

"For how long?" a man asked.

"Until we don't have to anymore, this isn't going to be permanent. I don't want it to be. Just a few here and there until we find something else. Maybe we'll grow a bigger garden out back." Gareth paused at his remark about the garden, recalling that it had been turned into a graveyard. "We'll find pigs, grow vegetables. It won't always have to be people. Not always," he assured.

"Nah, we can take every fucker out who gets here. I don't see the problem in that. Fuck pigs," a man grumbled.

Gareth thought he had a point. He'd been suggesting they do it half-way, try not to when able, but he could see error in that. Doing things fifty-percent was never a good idea.

"I'm really sorry. Sorry that it had to be like this. I know it's... disgusting," he said despite the man's rough remark.

"No, don't be. We won't have to move, not anymore," a woman said.

"I can't run again. They can't make us run, this is our home," another woman cried.

"Hey, I'll be here," an older man said, looking to Gareth.

Even Alex, although reluctantly, nodded in agreement.

"If anyone wants to leave, then they can, you—"

"Would you eat us then? Since we're not on your side anymore?" Priscilla demanded.

"No, no. But I don't think you'll go." Gareth waited for Priscilla's reply, but she gave none. "Why don't you think about it in some other way? Like... like it's our turn to be top dog. You know, in the wild, if you're not the apex predator then you're the prey. And this way we know we'll never be the prey again. I'm not trying to be your dictator, I'm saying this is what needs to be done."

The expression, "it's a dog-eat-dog world" then ran through Gareth's mind. Funny thing was, they weren't even dogs around to eat those days.


	3. Devils and Angels

The refuge that was Terminus had been in existence since nearly the beginning of the turn. It was Gareth and his family, mainly his father Michael, who established the place. Their family had been very lucky. They had escaped the city together along with friends and other survivors. While following the train tracks searching for anything of use, they found a railroad yard complex that proved to be a hospitable environment.

Michael and Mary were not together, not since Gareth was eleven and Alex was nine. At that time, Mary revealed to Michael that Alex was the product of a one-night stand between her and a man she never saw again. Despite this and their following divorce, too much time had passed where Michael had loved Alex as his flesh-and-blood. Michael continued, albeit not without trouble at first, to treat Alex as his own and Alex continued to call Michael father.

Michael was of the philosophy that when you give, you get back. He believed helping the downtrodden and defenseless was his duty as a human being and at the time, so did Mary, Gareth and Alex. They invited other people into Terminus and grew stronger. In earnest, they helped people.

They thought it was the living versus the dead and they'd found a way to win against the walkers.

It had occurred to them, however, that unsavory people might show up. A group of three—two women and a man—had arrived at their doorstep a few months before the Siege, teary-eyed and broken. They said thugs had robbed them blind and murdered their children several days before.

_"What if people like that show up here?"_ Alex had asked his father.

_"We're strong enough to defend ourselves, there's more of us than there are of them,"_ Michael had assured.

Michael was the very first Terminant killed by the Occupiers.

Cut off the head and the body will die.

* * *

><p>"So, what? You're just gonna kill us off one by one? Some sorta fucked-up revenge?" said one of the Occupiers, a large, balding man whose name they didn't know. His hands and feet had been tied to a steel chair by Gavin and Wesley, who had quite ungentley removed him from the train car he shared with his remaining group.<p>

Sitting on the edge of an identical steel chair, face-to-face with the thug, was Gareth. Meanwhile, Gavin and Wesley stood behind the man on either side of him, pistols in holsters, and a knife in Wesley's hand.

"Guess again," Gareth mocked.

"You won, man. Just kill us. Don't pussy around."

"You know, I don't even know your name."

"Fuck you."

Gareth leaned back, resting his hands just above his knees and letting his weight fall against the back of the chair. He was aware of the effects body language could have and made a point to convey his dominance.

When he and the others had opened the traincar to retrieve one of the bandits, habit made him experience a jolt of fear and shrink back at the sight of them. He regretted the action and promptly corrected it. The Occupiers couldn't think the battle against them was still ongoing. If he continued to show fear in their presence, they would continue to hold sway.

"We had an epiphany," Gareth said after several moments of silence. "Didn't I tell you?"

"You didn't tell me shit, boy."

Gareth leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "You really underestimated us, you know. See, the thing is, I underestimated us too. I was naïve and stuck in the past, in a time where guys like you would be jailed and executed. Where we could actually rely on other people to keep us safe. Where, for the most part, people could be trusted, right? But there's no law anymore, there's just folks trying to survive. It's devolution, really. And it sucks. I really don't want to do this. Not even to you. Actually, especially not to you, even though you deserve the worst kind of pain. I still have half a mind to leave you in there to starve to death, but we come first. And our supplies are still just a little bit limited."

"You love to hear yourself talk, don't you?" the man replied.

"So have you guessed yet?" Gareth said with an amused smile. "No?" he pressed further. The man remained silent. "Man, you are fifty shades of stupid," he insulted.

"Hey, where's your mommy? I'd love to see her before whatever it is you got planned here," the man said. Gareth's face began to fall without his approval. "Love to give her another go, it's my dyin' wish." The man locked his eyes to the younger man's.

Gareth clenched his jaw hard as violent fantasies raced through his mind. He envisioned beating the man to death with his hands while disfiguring his face from the blows. He imagined having Gavin and Wesley hold the man down on the floor while he castrated him with a knife. He thought of slicing open the man's throat, slow and sloppy, watching him choke and sputter on his own blood.

The urges came forth and enveloped him, but he told himself he wasn't going to sink to that primal, violent level. It's not as if he hadn't already. He hardly recognized himself after he broke out of the traincar.

Gareth had bludgeoned one of the men in the face with a steel pipe, running off white-hot adrenaline and rage. He estimated he hit him thirty to forty times, turning the Occupier's head to mush. Yet that was in the moment. That was his therapy. Now, he couldn't allow himself to sink to the sadistic level of these men who inflict pain just to inflict pain.

No, he would not beat the man to death, but he would perform the execution. It would be a lie if he acted as if he wouldn't enjoy it even in the slightest, but it still had to be business.

Gareth stood up, moved over to Wesley, and extended his hand outwards signalling he give him the knife, which he did. He then positioned himself behind the man, placed his left hand on the thug's shoulder and held the knife up to his throat with his right. He pressed against his skin with just enough force to communicate the seriousness of his intention.

Despite that he was the one holding the knife this time, he felt repulsed being so close to the man. The instinct to flee returned, making him want to run and hide again. To cover his face and wait for sleep to come, if it ever did. Instead, he forced it down with a rough gulp.

Gavin then retrieved a bread tray from a table behind them. Standing to the side, he positioned it under the man's neck, intending it to catch the blood that would spew.

_We're gonna need to get something better than that_, Gareth thought upon sight of the bread tray.

"Price. Name's Price," the man said.

"Your first or last?" Gareth asked, leaning in to where his mouth was next to his ear. The man didn't reply.

A sudden sound of footsteps then drew all four of their attentions away from the current exchange. The door in front of them creaked open, and Mary stepped into the room.

Gareth froze in place, eyes growing wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Mary first looked her son in his stunned eyes, and then shot quick glances at Price, Gavin and Wesley before fixing them back on Gareth.

"Hey! There's my best girl!" Price shouted.

"Shut up," Gareth whispered through clenched teeth.

Gareth's impulse was to tell his mother to leave, to look away. He didn't want her to have to see this, to have to look this man in the eyes ever again. There was still a need to protect her, to shield her from the violence and the death that plagued this world—regardless of whose death it was. It was ironic, it should be the other way around. The parent should be the one trying to shelter their child from such things.

As if Mary had read her son's mind, she spoke, "No, I want to watch," she said in a stern voice. "I want to look him in the eye," she added, stepping forward.

Gareth knew he shouldn't have thought she'd shy away, he knew her better than that.

"Why don't you let her do it?" Wesley questioned.

"Gareth's much better with knives than I am. He can show me." Her voice was steady.

"Hey man, you gone mute?" Price said to Gareth.

Gareth maintained eye contact with his mother as he placed his left hand under Price's chin, pushing his head back for easier access to his throat. Gavin let out a rough breath indicating his impatience over the delay.

"Any last words?" Gareth asked, finally returning his gaze to the task at hand.

"Enjoy your meal," Price said, glaring at Mary. Her expression remained rigid.

Without hesitation, Gareth swiftly moved his right hand to his left and then back to the right, slicing open Price's neck in a dead-straight line. Blood poured out in a uniform line into the bread tray, hitting the ends of Gareth's fingers. Price gurgled and shook for a few seconds before going still, his eyes rolling upwards and then setting in place.

_Death started this and now death has to end it_, he thought as he saw Price's body going limp.

"A trough would work better for this," Gavin mumbled.

Gareth watched his mother's face as she witnessed Price's death, still unmoving. He then glanced down to the bread tray that filled with the warm, red liquid. Stepping back, he then extended the knife back to Wesley as he accepted it.

Mary stepped forward to stand beside the chair Gareth had been sitting and looked Price's body up and down.

"You as hungry as I am, Mary?" Wesley said as he cleaned the blood from the knife with a washcloth.

"If not more," she replied.

Gareth used his pants to wipe the blood off his fingers, unconcerned with the stain as the garment was already tarnished. He then walked over to his mother and placed his right hand—the same one he had just used to kill Price—on her shoulder, attempting to break her gaze from Price's body.

"Hey, you wanna take a walk or something?" Gareth asked.

"No, this is alright... I'm okay here," Mary said with a half-smile, finally returning her eyes to his. "I'm not made of glass, Gareth."

"I know you're not, that's pretty obvious." Gareth gave a slight laugh.

Mary lifted her hand to her son's temple and softly trailed her fingers down his face before resting them at his jaw. "You did good. This is good." She adopted a fiercer tone and expression.

In that moment, Gareth felt he'd just breathed in pins and needles, indenting the back of his throat and threatening to break through. The sensation wasn't painful despite its sharpness, as if the pins were holding him up and in place. He wasn't sure if it was a good feeling or bad one, but upon his second breath, he realized the feeling was certainty. Certainty, he had thought, wasn't a feeling, it was a decision based on the facts and musts of a situation. Yet now he knew otherwise.

Gareth's small, yet lingering antipathy about what was being done was gone. His mother was now up and about after spending most of her time in her room and around the edges of the complex, staring off into the woods. She had just come to face the monster that now haunts her nightmares and won. It sealed every last fragment of doubt as to whether or not this was the right course of action.

It gave him the perspective he needed.

There was no more devil and angel on his shoulder, and now that he was free of them, he felt could finally see with clarity.

Gareth found the notion of angels and devils being opposite ridiculous anyway. He believed an angel was just a demon that hadn't had to face reality yet.


	4. Red

**A/N:** I wanted to step outside of Gareth's cool and calculating mind for a bit and explore someone who's still conflicted and has a great deal of compassion, so wave hello to Alex. I also intend to do chapters centered on other non-Gareth characters later on as well.

* * *

><p>Alex could never forget the first time he killed a walker. The way his hand shook as he squeezed the handle of the Phillips screwdriver. How the tip drove through its head and the cracking sound it made when it penetrated the skull, followed by the soft squish when it pushed through the brain. Or the way he stumbled down with it as it fell, his hand still on the handle because the tool had gotten stuck. And the softness of his voice when he whispered the word 'sorry' to it after he got it out.<p>

Many people had sympathy for walkers in the beginning. There was a sadness upon seeing them. Knowing that the moaning, mindless creature was not too long ago a functional human being. At the start, some people still believed walkers could be cured and reversed back to their living selves. Alex had been one of them.

_"Maybe we can get 'em back if they just turned—talk to 'em. Please, let's just talk to 'em first. Before we do anything,"_ Alex had pleaded with a friend of his four days after the outbreak erupted in full-force.

Sometimes, Alex would peer at the undead from the roofs of Terminus through the scope of his rifle while he monitored their activity, and try to muster that same sympathy. To look at their rotting, dirty and now hideous faces and attempt the same despair that was fresh in the turn.

It didn't work, not really. Now, it was more of a low, rumble of pity like when a friend of a friend's friend who you had never met, had died. Feeling for walkers was pointless. Everyone figures that out in time.

Compassion isn't always a gift in this world.

* * *

><p>Terminus—with its people now physically more proficient—had been busy re-securing the compound fences and finding more supplies. The discovery of nearby store had also given them copious amounts of shaving razors, deodorant, and aspirin among other supplies that felt like luxuries.<p>

Alex slept in, missing the commotion over the new amenities. As he often did, he dreamed of his old, pre-turn life. Most often, they were of his college years, despite the stress they caused him.

When a child, he had been diagnosed with attention deficit disorder along with dyslexia and carried it into adulthood. In spite of his limitations, he was accepted into college and majored in the humanities, focusing on the arts since he was an avid artist.

Gareth had majored in computer science at the same school Alex attended. An act that stirred up envy from him as he was terrible at algorithms. His older brother was a star student throughout his life; top of his class, honors, advanced placement, and many other prestigious accomplishments. Alex had a large shadow cast over him—yearning in secret for the praise and recognition his brother received.

The night before, Alex closed his eyes and entered a world where he was sheltered and safe. Where his biggest worry was turning in a five-page essay and largest grievance was hearing non-stop about Gareth and the 170 IQ he shared along with his uber-smart friends and girlfriend.

The dream placed him in his old dorm, lying against his closet door, bare feet resting against the green, shag carpet as the bright LED light glared at him from the MacBook in his lap. His favorite part of these dreams was always the joint he held between his lips and the cloud of sour smoke that encased him.

_"Typical stoned college kid. My son, perpetuating a stereotype,"_ Mary had said of him. He figured he was a stereotype, as he dropped out.

Alex roused at the apex of the experience, during the lazy yet welcome feeling of actual _boredom_. For several moments upon waking, he forgot the world had ended. He believed he was still in his old bed and he'd awoken before the alarm on his phone went off.

The cold, intrusive air from the previous night's low temperatures, then replaced the calm, comforting sensations of a room that existed another lifetime ago. Hard, white and grey brick walls of his room then abruptly brought him back to where he was: Terminus. Looking down, he recalled he had worn a red t-shirt to bed. The color almost burned his cloudy, sleep-stricken eyes.

Scarlet raced through his mind, yanking him from his foggy dream state. There was no more plush, forest green carpet beneath his feet, or egg white frame of his Macbook, there was only red. The red that soaked the memories he housed of the horrid things he had to witness since the turn. The brutal deaths of countless walkers, of people back home, the harrowing assaults and demise of his fellow Terminants and their end in a mass grave. But what stuck in his mind, playing on a loop, was the crimson memory of him skinning a human torso.

_Oh my god oh my god oh my god_, Alex thought.

_Did I really do that?_ Alex neared a panic.

In that moment, while he and the others were butchering their former captors, he had adapted. Mutilating the man's body felt as normal for him as peeling a potato. He didn't enjoy it, it was a morbid and tiresome task. Yet he managed to shut off the shock and nightmarish reaction that had now, for a reason unbeknownst to him, caught up with him.

"No, no..." Alex whined, burying his face into his stale-smelling white pillow as he began to sob.

Grief rose and pooled in his chest, spreading up through his throat and overflowing through his eyes as they soaked his pillow. He felt it over more things than he could comprehend at the time. The loss of the old world, of his and his family's innocence, of his father, of his friends, and of his old college dorm room.

"Alex?" Gareth's voice interrupted his misery. Alex hadn't even heard him come in.

_God damnit, go away_. He wasn't in the mood for a pep talk from his brother.

Gareth then moved over, knelt by his bed, and shook his shoulder. "Alex, it's noon."

"I know," Alex replied, muffled by the pillow. It became obvious to Gareth that Alex had been awake when he entered.

Alex thought Gareth would then try to rile him up, give him 'butcher or the cattle' lines and tell him he had a job to do, but he didn't. Instead, he remained kneeling by the bedside with his hand still on his brother's shoulder. Turning over to face Gareth, Alex knew it would reveal the tears he'd spilled. Yet he didn't react when he saw his reddened face.

"Mom was laughing earlier," Gareth said with a small smile, removing his hand from his shoulder. Alex didn't reply, but his eyes grew wider. Mary hadn't laughed since before the Siege and barely smiled since they retook Terminus.

"Yeah, she and Camille were knitting scarves when Frank stepped on a piece that was lying on the floor and it stuck to his shoe. When he started walking away, it went with him. At first, mom didn't realize why it was suddenly leaving the table and when she did, she started laughing, like, really hard."

Alex smiled a tad, wishing he could have been there to see it.

A flicker of light shone in Gareth's eyes. The same light he'd seen when he had taken his hands and told him he could be strong. That twinge of old Gareth, the brainiac, full-of-himself, yet ultimately kind and supportive brother he'd known before all this.

"New people came in. Two women. A young one and an old one. They're in _A_." Gareth returned to a more serious tone.

"Just do it already," Alex murmured.

Gareth's raised his eyebrows. "Didn't think I'd hear that from you so fast."

"I'm hungry, Gareth," he admitted.

He _was_ hungry. Despite his low mood, he still craved the sensation of warm meat on his tongue. He and no one else at Terminus was yet fully sated.

* * *

><p>Managing to swallow just enough of his despair to get up and move around, Alex headed toward the new collection of supplies laid upon newly-clothed tables indoors. He watched the faces of his comrades as they came and went, noticing some had managed to return to a degree of what resembled normalcy.<p>

Not to his surprise, Theresa appeared to be one of the most resilient. During the Siege, even after each attack on her, he always believed she was one of the strongest people they had at Terminus. He had always admired her, and especially her spirit, wishing he had more of it himself.

Yet other ones, like Albert, meandered around the facility, quietly performing routine tasks and associating with few.

One table was filled with candles, more than he thought they'd ever need. Someone told him they planned to build the memorial for their dead like he, Albert and others had pressed for. Next to the surface that contained the candles, was a table consisting of familiar items. One on which was an acoustic guitar that had belonged to his father, Michael. Michael had played in his spare time and had taught Alex to play at a young age.

_Hi dad_, Alex thought as he passed by, looking over each item before he stuffed a blue, plastic shaving razor and packet of aspirin in his coat pocket.

Alex had set out with a specific goal in mind: he wanted to see the two women they had captured instead of burying his head in the sand and waiting until they were dinner. Gareth was right; he needed to get over the distress he felt over eating so-called innocent people. Eating his captors hadn't been that difficult, he figured it was the effects of the hunger and how it overwhelmed all else. It still did. Hunger isn't cured by one or two good meals—it takes many of them.

Alex thought of what he said to Gareth about their plan to lure and trap survivors. How he believed there still were good people out there. But deep down, he believed his brother when he said it shouldn't matter who they are and if they're 'good' or not.

_"No one is innocent anymore. If they were, they wouldn't still be alive."_ Another one of Gareth's declarations stuck in his mind.

Alex knew he couldn't have it both ways, he could either choose 'us or them.' After all, he was the one who worried about what kind of people the signs would bring in. It shamed him to still feel such distress over the necessary measures they had to take.

Clenching the fabric in his jean pockets, Alex shuffled through the building to what would serve as their new and very own slaughterhouse. In the meantime, he passed the infamous traincars.

Only two of the Occupiers remained—one being their leader. Many people, including Theresa, Mary, Gavin, and especially Cynthia, wanted to keep them alive and feed them only the most meager scraps of meat and pine bark. They wanted to watch them writhe and starve. Gareth had agreed.

Before Alex had gone to sleep the previous night, he saw Cynthia pounding on the train car they were in. She screamed obscenities and sadistic declarations of her pleasure in that _they_ were now _her_ captives.

_Don't think, act_, Alex told himself when he reached the killing floor and opened the heavy door.

His first sight was of the two women, one young, and one middle-aged. Both had straight, golden blonde hair of nearly the identical shade, and matching faces that marked them as most likely mother and daughter.

Gagged with green bandanas and hands tied behind their backs, they knelt before a small, somewhat rusted trough in the cold and sterile room's center. The young one wore red hoop earrings that shook as she fidgeted.

More red.

_So, they actually got the damn trough._

Two men—not Gavin and Wesley—whom Alex had expected, faced away from him, doing something with their knives he couldn't see.

The two women turned their heads to Alex, breathing heavy with eyes full of utter terror. He recognized their expressions all too well. It wasn't long ago that he, his family and friends, had donned the same faces; totally at the mercy of a stranger. A pang of sorrow ran through his chest at the sight of them. These women thought they would find sanctuary here.

"Alex?" Gareth said from behind him, making him flinch.

_How the hell does he keep sneaking up on me?_

Gareth stepped into his brother's field of vision, blocking his view of the two women. "You came in here on your own?"

_No, the fucking babysitter brought me._

"You were right, man. I need to grow a sack and take this in." Alex nodded along to his own words.

Gareth narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out how the depressed, tearful Alex from just an hour earlier had become the determined, confrontational Alex before him.

"No one else wanted to see?" He thought at least a few people would want to witness the process.

"No, they have things to do. I actually shouldn't have let you sleep in. Last time I show favoritism, okay?" His voice was stern.

Alex nodded in agreement, thinking he might then tell him to leave and to go be 'productive.' But he didn't.

"Please!" A high-pitched voice broke through their exchange.

They turned to see the gag had slipped out of the younger woman's mouth. Her wet eyes fixed on Alex.

"Please don't, I'll do anything you want! Just please don't kill me and my mom, please!" The woman pleaded as tears rolled down her cheeks.

_Why does she have to be looking at me?_

One of the men, who Alex recognized as Wilson, marched over behind the girl, pulled the gag back in her mouth, and tightened it, muffling her continued cries.

"Sorry, hun," Wilson said.

"Well, there's your dinner," Gareth said, a hint of a smirk on his face.

At that moment, Alex realized he'd become somewhat afraid of Gareth. Not afraid that he might act violently against him, but there was a sense of apprehension when in his presence—an uncertainty. The sort of uncertainty one feels around a stranger. Except he thought it a preposterous thing to feel. That was his brother for god's sake, not a stranger.

He wondered if anyone else felt this way. Or if it was only he who did since he remembered the Gareth who couldn't strike fear into anyone's hearts if he tried. The butchers in the room must have some degree of fear of him, he thought. Or at least respect. Or maybe just gratitude if they would so willingly follow his every command. Or perhaps they knew Gareth was the best person for this job. That he had the intelligence and determination of his late father, but without the bleeding heart that assisted in their near-destruction.

Alex couldn't help wondering what Gareth thought of him either. His older brother hadn't known in certain terms until after the turn that Alex had grown up feeling jealous of him. The end of the world had the ability to unearth things previously buried.

Neither Alex nor Gareth remembered how it started, but while following the tracks, Alex became enraged at Gareth's typical status as the 'better brother.'

_"Because it's always you, ain't it?" Mister fuckin' perfect!"_ Alex had shouted. Words he had wanted to say to him his entire life came spilling out. Gareth was more surprised than angry at what was said to him.

_Slice._

Before Alex could act, Wilson had cut the throat of the older woman as fresh blood spewed from her neck and into the metal container.

_Oh, shit_. He hadn't expected him to do it so soon.

The younger one rocked back and forth trying to break free of her restraints. Gareth simply stood by and watched. Alex wondered why at first, before realizing he was evaluating the butchers' skill.

_Crack._

Alex's heart was pounding at this point, pulsating with the same hot blood he saw filling the trough. A whine tried to escape his throat, but he inhaled through his mouth hard enough to force it back down.

The other man—named Mitch—hit the young woman with a metal pipe, knocking her unconscious and ceasing her frantic movements.

Alex felt relief over the cessation of her panic, giving him the courage to speak again. "Don't you gotta stab 'em in the head?"

"Nah, we're eatin' walker jerky now. Yeah we're stabbin' 'em in the head," Mitch quipped. Alex sighed, regretting his question.

"Enjoy the show, Al? Gonna have to get used to it one way or another," Wilson said, standing behind the body of the older woman.

"Don't call him _Al_, he hates that," Gareth remarked, stepping forward to get a better view of the bodies that lay slumped over the edge of the dish.

Wilson lifted the young woman's body back and cut her throat as the gash on her neck bled out into the trough.

_Slice._

Red. Red was all Alex saw, but he let himself see it. Instead of trying to hide from it as he had when he'd awoken from his pleasant dream, he let himself see red.

"This'll do good. They'll be good later," Alex said of the two dead women as he stepped to Gareth's side, attempting to emulate the emotionally removed affect Gareth did. He had no idea how he did it so well.

"Awww, that's my baby bro," Gareth said with a teasing smile as he patted Alex's shoulder.

The younger man Alex inhaled deeply, trying to hide his annoyance. He often frustrated him with remarks that Alex felt condescending.

"Hey, I mean that as a good thing," Gareth added, noticing Alex's reaction.

A half-smile touched his face and he looked down at the blood that pooled into the trough. The blonde hair of the two women hung down far enough to where the ends had become coated with the thick, red liquid.

Alex repeated the words 'us or them' in his head while looking at his future meals and continued repeating it until he thought he might come to believe it.


	5. We Can Wait

A large, former storage area had been cleared out and the names of the fallen written on the floor. Personal effects, ages, and hometowns of some accompanied the names as well as more lit candles than one could count.

It felt like closure for some, and like a reopening a wound for others, but each one of them attended the official lighting ceremony. Cynthia wrote-up a declaration that Alex proceeded to paint the walls with:

_NEVER AGAIN, NEVER TRUST. WE FIRST, ALWAYS._

The service was for the most part a quiet one, except when people took to reminiscing of their dead. Some cried, which for the first time since taking Terminus back, included Gareth.

_"They won't lose respect for you for admitting you're still human,"_ Mary had whispered into her son's ear when she he tried to hold back tears.

The church became a place to purge the doubts, apprehensions, and ever creeping-remorse over the official turn to the cannibalism.

Its purpose was to serve as clarity incarnate.

* * *

><p>Gareth spent at least half of his late nights and early mornings in his mother's room, often along alongside Alex. Mary had trouble sleeping in the dark being that her rape had only occurred at night. Nestled underneath her quilt, Gareth and Alex took shifts sleeping and staying awake to rouse her when she began to wriggle and whimper.<p>

_"No, please, no. Not again, please not again. I'll do anything else, please."_ Mary would echo the pleas she gave the men during the Siege.

Hearing those words again come from their mother's mouth made Gareth and Alex cringe, wanting to cover their eyes and ears as they had when it had really happened. Instead, they would shake her awake and remind her it was over, that they were out, and hold her until she fell back asleep once more.

Gareth also had nightmares, although he didn't care to elaborate on them often. The end of the world, the Siege, the famine, the pain, the rape, and murder had bled over to stain what he thought would always stay safely tucked away: his happy memories.

Sometimes he would dream he was a young child on his school playground chasing a classmate, when he'd turn a corner and come face-to-face with a snarling walker tripping over itself to reach him. He'd dream of Thanksgiving day where just as his grandfather sat at the head of the table, the leader of the Occupiers would show up and cut his grandfather's throat, causing his head to smack into his plate. All while the thug grinned and laughed that sickening, putrid laugh.

He would dream of his late girlfriend, Chelsea, whom he'd escaped his city with. Who, in his opinion, had the good fortune to have been bitten by a walker before the Siege.

_Thank god_, Gareth had declared. If the Occupiers had gotten wind she was involved with Gareth... he tried not to think what they would have done to her.

His nightmares filled in the blanks for him.

Alex told Gareth he dreamed of his old life too, but those memories hadn't been tarnished by the demons of the present. Gareth expressed his envy over it until Alex told him each time he awoke from them it was like the world had ended all over again. Gareth figured at least when he woke up, he could tell himself _some_ of what he had dreamed wasn't real.

Mary didn't go into specifics, but they knew what she dreamed of. Gareth and Alex told her they felt guilty, like they'd gotten off easy, being that the most the men did to them never went farther than habitual beatings.

Their physical wounds, however, had mostly healed. Much of it due to proper nutrition.

Early in the morning, with his sleep-deprived and stinging eyes, Gareth scrutinized his body in the mirror. For one, he noticed his skin had become softer as well as more flushed. Lifting up the same shirt he'd slept in, he evaluated the bruises on his side that had been created by a pair of boots. Bruises that came to be when he tried to pry away Albert's father from one of the Occupiers and faced his punishment lying on the ground. The marks resulting from the incident that had remained black and blue for weeks had now faded to a light grey.

Gareth pressed his fingers down on the battered surface of his skin, noting the new layer of fat that cushioned his digits.

_You are what you eat_, he thought of the human fat he'd consumed, imagining that it had now taken root as fat on his own body. Gareth laughed internally as his mind returned him to his nutrition-obsessed second grade teacher.

_"You are what you eat! I never let my children eat such filth! If I did, then they'd become filth!"_ she proclaimed one morning after confiscating a girl's bag of cheddar potato chips. Gareth wondered what she would think of him now.

A sudden knock on his door made him flinch and pull his shirt down. Stepping over to the door, he pulled it open to reveal Theresa.

"Oh, you're awake. Good," she said. "You're gonna want to hear this."

Gareth got the immediate sense this was Alex-related.

He rubbed his tired eye. "Go on."

She brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. "Well, really early this morning, as in, the sun had just risen, we got a new arrival. Alex was down there by the gates and let him in. He thinks we should see if he'd be a good fit here as a _non_-food source."

Gareth thought it was odd of his brother to be awake so early. Alex typically never woke before at least ten in the morning unless he had to. And he knew for a fact he didn't have watch duty scheduled at that time.

He let out a long breath. "Where's the new guy now?"

Theresa crossed her arms. "Eating something your mom fixed-up up front."

"So, Alex has a new friend..." His eyes wandered beyond her, contemplating the idea of accepting new people again.

In a previous group meeting, he stated that he wouldn't be opposed to opening their doors again at some point. They hadn't asked the two women or the man they'd captured several days ago, if they would accept Terminus' terms. At that time, they couldn't afford to lose the meat. Maybe this was finally the day to hack up the other Occupier, Gareth thought. Not their leader, who they had allowed to live for the time being per request of Cynthia, Theresa, Mary, Gavin and others.

Gareth swore he wasn't their dictator. Unlike the Occupiers' leader who berated and abused his men when he saw fit. So, he had listened to their request to keep that one man alive and agreed, but only until he was needed for meat. Cynthia told him the thoughts of his agony and sight of him dirty and covered in his own excrement—as they hadn't cleaned out his train car—was the only thing that allowed her a peaceful sleep.

Gareth decided he would ask the others if they would accept the possibility of someone new before he made the decision.

"Alright, then I'm going to need to see this guy. _Now_," he declared.

Theresa shook her head. "I don't like this. We have no idea who he is."

Gareth slid a step forward and looked down at her disdainful expression. "If he appears to be a threat for even a second, he's jerky, alright?"

Theresa gave a reluctant nod, a bit of comfort spreading across her face.

* * *

><p>"Well, he showed up and the very first thing he asked was if we had anything to eat. I patted him down and he only had a knife on him," Alex explained to Gareth as they walked through the front courtyard in its unseasonably warm temperature. Unusual weather never failed to make Gareth uncomfortable.<p>

"You have to be thorough. How well did you search him?" Gareth asked.

Alex frowned. "I know how to search a guy for weapons, Gareth."

"That wasn't an insult, I'm just making sure." Alex ignored his partial-apology. "So what did you feed him?"

"Bowl of stomach stew," Alex replied, suddenly scratching furiously as his neck.

"What did you tell him it was?"

"Pig innards."

"Hm." Gareth figured that was the best choice. Human tastes quite a bit like pork, after all. He noticed Alex still pawing at his neck. "Why the hell are you scratching so much?"

"It's this damn shirt I got from the guy in _A_," Alex responded as he brought his hand back down to his side.

He offered a half-smile. "Well, Camille loves those red hoop earrings."

Alex's face fell at the memory of the original owner of the jewelry.

"Hey, why were you up so early?" Gareth asked. He had a suspicion it had to do with the gooey eyes his brother constantly gave Theresa.

"I wanted to..." Alex trailed off and shook his head. Gareth then slowed his pace, Alex following suit. "It's stupid I-I wanted to sketch the sunrise," he mumbled.

"That's not stupid. Did you?"

"Sorta got distracted by the man at the gates. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow."

"You have watch from five to seven tomorrow morning."

"Right, of course. Sometime else then."

As they met their destination, they found Mary sitting at a picnic table. Across from her, was the new man with an empty bowl in front of him. Gareth hadn't expected to see her still there and conversing with the new arrival. He didn't like seeing a stranger get so close to her, especially a strange man, but he ignored his impulse to shove the guy away from her.

"Oh hey, you head this place?" The man asked Gareth with a large smile. "Mary here was just tellin' me he was gonna bring you around."

Gareth then studied Mary, noticing she looked plenty relaxed, giving him a bit of relief.

"Yes. Hi, I'm Gareth and you obviously met Alex and Mary." He made a point not to reveal his relation to Mary and Alex. The Occupiers paid special attention to them when they found out they were related to the man in charge.

"Name's Martin, it's nice to meet you." Martin stood up, extended his hand to Gareth's, and shook it. Martin's hand was dirty and sticky with dried sweat. Gareth wiped his hand on his pants after the handshake, not attempting to hide the fact that he had done so.

"I've been on my own for a while and I was _starving_, this was a real nice treat," Martin continued to beam.

It was then he noticed a brown mark under Martin's left eye that looked like a healing bruise. He had to question everything he saw about the man before him. Why was he alone, for how long, did someone attack him and if so, why.

"Well, welcome to Terminus. We're glad you're here." He recited a few of the same words he had given new arrivals in the beginning.

"Well thanks for lettin' me in. And Mary here, she's real nice, and she's a great cook. That stuff really hit the spot. I hadn't had anything but squirrels and pecans for days."

"The boy inhaled it," Mary chimed-in.

"How come you've been on your own?" Gareth got in the question he was second most eager to ask.

"Oh, well... I..." Martin began, stuttering a bit. "I had some... differences with the guy in charge."

Gareth could tell he was omitting something.

"Kinda differences?" Alex interjected.

"Alright well... okay, I made a pass at the guy's girl, but I didn't know she was his girl. I thought they were brother and sister. So he gave me a nice ol' shiner and kicked my ass out, I didn't know, I swear." He raised his hands.

Gareth took in the story, not sure if he believed Martin didn't know the woman was taken. But the comical nature of such a thing amused him so much, he couldn't keep a straight face and cracked-up.

"You hit on the wrong girl," Gareth said through his laughter.

"Come on, every man's done it. It wasn't my fault. They didn't look like a thing." Martin defended.

Alex dipped his head, trying to hide his smile. Gareth noticed even his mother tried to hold back laughter as well.

"Well, alright. That's an honest mistake," Gareth replied, trying to return to a more serious tone. "Now, I know he already searched you, but we had some... issues here recently. So I'm going to need to pat you down again."

Alex sighed, losing his former amusement

Martin stood up. "Well, you already bought me dinner, so go for it. Actually man, I think they _were_ brother and sister so it's best I got away from that mess," he remarked as Gareth searched him.

"No interest in an incestuous love triangle, Martin?" Gareth quipped, making Martin chuckle.

Alex had searched him thoroughly, as there was nothing else of note on him.

Martin seemed a little sleazy, a little too sure of himself, but Gareth got the impression he was ultimately harmless. That he was the kind of guy that would blend in with almost any crowd as long as they increased his chances of survival.

_Well, he's already eaten it_, Gareth noted.

"My b—" he began to refer to Alex as his brother before remembering the protocol, "—best tour guide will show you around so you can get an idea of what we're about." He gave a polite smile.

Alex figured he should have known his brother would give the task of escorting Martin to him. After all, the fact he wasn't locked in _A_ at that very moment was his doing.

"And just so we're clear, Martin, if you try anything, anything at all, you're out, man." Gareth glared Martin in the eyes.

Martin stayed silent for a moment before speaking. "You'll get no trouble from me. Don't worry, I ain't that kinda people," he assured.

Gareth wondered if Martin's definition of 'that kinda people' included cannibals.

* * *

><p>Alex escorted Martin only to places that roused no suspicion. Among them was surprisingly enough, the kitchen. The kitchen that housed an abundance of freshly-dried jerky that Martin declared he was to get a piece of later. The new man was met with skeptical looks from people going about their daily tasks, but it didn't seem to faze him.<p>

The air had warmed to a balmy, Spring-like temperature as Alex informed Martin they were heading to the rec room.

"How many of you are there?" Martin asked, keeping a casual pace beside his tour guide.

"Twenty-nine," Alex replied.

He squinted. "That's all? With all the signs, this place oughta be packed."

_The rest are out back buried in a huge ditch._

"So..." he continued, "I guess you don't accept everyone then? Is that was this is? A screenin' process?"

Martin had asked a lot of questions. Alex knew he wasn't the best with words, and wished Gareth were doing this instead.

"It's complicated. And no, we don't accept everyone," he replied.

"Did I pass yet?"

"You'll have to talk to Gareth."

"Yeah, he seems young for a man in charge, no offense. How'd he get up to the top?"

Gareth hadn't said to withhold _everything_ about Terminus' murky past.

"His dad founded this place and when he died, Gareth took the reins."

"How long ago was that?"

Alex grit his teeth. He couldn't blame the guy for asking so many questions, but he had grown tired of answering them. Fearing he would slip up and spill something he wasn't supposed to.

"A few months," he exaggerated, hoping his usual abysmal lying skills had improved. Before Martin could reply, Alex decided a change of subject was in order. "Enough about us man, who the hell are you?"

"Well, I was with a group for a while. Some family and other people until they all got got. Then, I joined up with some other folks. I took off from 'em 'cause we didn't mesh right. Then the people I told you I was with, and now I'm here. Riveting." His reply was much shorter than Alex anticipated.

"Why didn't you mesh with the second group?"

He scoffed. "They were the dumbest assholes I ever met. I'm surprised they hadn't gotten themselves eaten already by the time I left."

"What kinda dumb assholes?"

"Oh, man. Well for one, they wasted bullets left and fuckin' right. I tried to teach one guy how to use a knife, or you know, _any_ blunt instrument within arm's reach to kill biters, and they all just looked at me like I was crazy!"

"You call 'em biters, huh?"

"Yeah, you call 'em walkers, right?"

"Yep."

"Ain't that an Atlanta thing?"

"The hell am I supposed to know?" He laughed, a bit of his anxiety fading.

"So where do you keep your pigs?" Martin asked after several moments of silence.

_So, you notice the lack of livestock?_

As they approached the rec room, Alex contemplated a quick answer, but felt it get stuck in his throat. Saved by the bell, Gareth, Cynthia, and Albert then emerged from the room.

"How are you liking it here?" Gareth asked Martin in the sunniest voice possible. "Oh, wait, my bad," he added. "This is Cynthia, and this is Albert." He motioned to the two on either side of him.

Cynthia reached out and shook Martin's hand while Albert stayed in place and offered a polite wave.

"Where do you keep your pigs?" Martin repeated the question to Gareth.

The leader had wanted to keep him longer before they told him, maybe even overnight, but what the hell? Why not tell him now? If he freaked out, he'd be dinner within a few hours. No harm, no foul.

Gareth looked to his nervous brother, then the other two beside him. "I can show him the rec room."

Alex slid a hand in his pocket. "Alright," he agreed before heading back the way he had come, Cynthia and Albert trailing behind him.

Gareth turned and pulled open the rec room as Martin followed. The room had been torn to shreds during the occupation. Its reconstruction consisted of a new table to play every type of card game imaginable on. Several sloppily stacked decks rest on the table along with strewn about poker chips.

"You showin' me the... pigs?" Martin asked, halting by Gareth's side.

He stopped as well and turned to face him. "There are no pigs, Martin."

"So... why are we in here?"

Gareth scanned over Martin's tense face, deciding what would be ideal way to break such news. "Not too long ago, people came and took this place," he began. Martin's expression remained the same. "They devastated us. Raped some of us, killed a lot of us. But we fought and we took it back."

Martin gave a nod. "Okay."

"And they also starved us," he continued. "So, we had to do something. Something we unfortunately, still do."

From the way Martin's lips had parted, and eyes had turned to stone, Gareth thought Martin may have already figured it out.

"Starved you, huh? You tellin' me what I think you are?"

"What do _you_ think? You seem smart enough."

Martin was silent, too silent. Gareth hadn't expected a placid reaction.

"So this is what you do. This is your thing, huh," Martin finally, eyes moving over the rest of the room.

"Our _thing_?"

He brought his gaze back to Gareth. "Everyone's got a thing nowadays. Somethin' that sets 'em apart from everyone else. The thing that keeps 'em alive. Eatin' people, that um—that's yours."

"Certainly not the reaction I expected."

"What do want me to do? Yell? Scream? Go make myself throw up? Nothin' shocks me anymore, man." A hint of sadness appeared on his face. "I'm sorry about what happened here. I met people like that on the road. Sick fucks."

"Sicker than we are?"

Martin raised his eyebrows. "Y'all don't do this for fun, do you?"

"There's nothing fun about this," he replied without hesitation.

"Well, I don't know, maybe it is sick. But the whole goddamn world is sick. You know?"

Gareth nodded along. "So, tell me, what have _you_ done that sets you apart?"

"What?"

Gareth shrugged. "None of our hands are clean."

Martin gave a half-smile. "You wanna unlock my tragic back story?"

"We all have them."

After several moments of silence, Martin replied, "I killed my sister. She went crazy, all out crazy. She was never all there to begin with and she got it in her head we'd all become biters. She killed her best friend, friend's husband, one of the other guys there. So, I grabbed my gun and took her down. Thing was, I didn't even hesitate. That was my fraternal twin sister and I shot her right between the eyes." A hint of self-contempt touched his voice.

"I'm sorry," Gareth said softly.

"Don't be. Please. I hate people feelin' sorry for me."

Gareth narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you aren't bothered. Unless, you're lying and think you can get away. Which trust me, you can't."

Martin scratched the back of his neck. "Well, my head's kinda spinnin' right now."

"I thought you said you weren't surprised."

"That you do this? No. But I wasn't expectin' to walk into this particular business today."

"Well, hey, I have a pitch, you want to hear it?"

Martin gave a lazy shrug. "Sure, why not."

"Say you were an antelope, who serve as the main food source for many different predators. And one day, you had the choice to either stay an antelope, continue being hunted and weak and constantly vulnerable, or become a lion and sit at the top of the food chain. You'd never have to be at the mercy of a predator again."

Martin smiled lightly. "That's a good point, but I don't see what choice I have. If I say no, I'm your next meal, right?"

"There's always a choice. You could choose not to out of principle. Pretty self-defeating, but not everyone shares the same convictions." For the first time since his arrival, Gareth saw he had Martin's undivided attention. "It's our ability to make these choices that make us human, and what makes us different from the lions." He started the other man deep in the eyes.

"I get it man, I do. I can't cast stones, you did what you had to. I get that," he said, breaking eye contact and glancing down at his hands that fidgeted around one another.

"We're _doing_ what we have to," Gareth clarified.

Martin looked back up at him. "So you ever actually gonna say the word?"

Gareth was unsure at first what word he meant, until he realized the word he had only ever once said aloud. "Cannibal?" The word left his mouth easier than it had the first time.

"Yeah, that one. You ever said it before?"

"Once, when those pricks had us locked in the train car. It was my idea to start this."

"Hm. I just... I just don't see why you'd let in anyone at all, especially me. I mean, I'm nobody but at the same time I could be anybody."

"Well, we haven't let anyone new in since before the Siege. So consider yourself a test run," Gareth said as Martin continued to squeeze his hands together. "I'm still going to keep a guard posted on you. Everywhere you go. And I'm going to need to meet with everyone before we let you in," Gareth declared.

"I understand."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm think they'll say yes. So... you want to see?"

Martin's eyes grew. "Well, I'll have to sooner or later, won't I?"

"You've been hunting, and you seem like the type who'd go hunting for sport before all of this. Am I right?"

Martin nodded.

"Then you know what to expect."

* * *

><p>Still feeling the meat from the stew he'd eaten earlier churning inside him, Martin laid his eyes on the raw human meat. It made him feel half-sick. No amount of lack of surprise or agreement to accept this could negate the fact after being altered so many times by the world, he had been altered yet again.<p>

Meat hooks—he hadn't expected that. He didn't know why he didn't, it made sense. One body, a man, had no head or limbs and lay on a metal stretcher. Martin asked what they did with non-usable parts, and Gavin, who came along on this second part of Martin's tour, told him they were burned. He envisioned himself being dismembered and hung up. Then boiled with cabbage and potatoes, and having the rest of him burned out back.

Gareth was right; he would rather be the lion than the antelope.


	6. Monster

Sometimes, Gareth enjoyed freedom from his daily tasks and procedures and would keep aerial watch with his people, enjoying the gift of actual boredom that typically accompanied it. This time, Gareth joined Martin during his shift as they stood on one of the lower levels of the compound's roofs.

Martin hadn't yet officially become one of Terminus. Gareth and his people decided he was still a test-run until everyone there felt he could be trusted. Theresa was the one who he anticipated would hold out the longest on her official 'he's okay to stay' declaration. Martin, however, had already set up expecting his stay to be permanent.

"Bet I can hit that quail from here," Martin said as he gazed down the scope of his rifle at the bird hopping along a base of a tree across the fence.

"You want to inflict quail meat on us?" Gareth jested.

"It's not that bad... eh, you're right." He lowered his gun. "You know I used to bird watch?" His eyes still fixed on the bird.

Gareth could tell this subject would bore him. "I do now."

"I used to love nature before it decided to bite us all on the ass."

He nodded along, feigning interest. "Did you keep one of those journals? With pictures and records of the birds?"

"Yeah, wish I still had it."

"So, how many of those birds you watched did you also happen to shoot?"

"Please, the only ones really worth huntin' are turkeys. I'd kill for a turkey. Haven't seen one since all this started."

Gareth had to wonder if Martin didn't like the taste of human meat. Wanting to shoot a quail and speaking of his desire for a turkey indicated he might crave a different type of flesh.

"Hey, I should show you how to look for birds like owls at night," Martin offered. "I know it sounds boring as hell, but once you get into it..."

The man had been very friendly with Gareth during his time there. Which he understood, but he would be lying if he said Martin wasn't annoying in the large doses he kept providing of himself.

"Uh, I don't know. I think Albert is more into that sort of thing," Gareth replied.

"Oh, yeah sure, but he's kinda..." he trailed off, making a displeased face.

"Kind of what?"

"No offense, I know he's just a kid, but he has some demons, don't he?"

"We all have our demons, Martin."

"Yeeaah, I know. Some of us seem to be able to carry 'em a little easier is all."

"Well, it's not like it used to be." He stared off into the greenery of the woods. "You can't take days off anymore. You feel like crap you have to grit your teeth and bare it. I mean, the things that happened to us... we didn't have the option to rest, or have group therapy. You don't get privileges like that anymore."

Martin was silent for a few awkward seconds before replying, "Maybe you should assign me Terminus therapist. I'm good at callin' people out on their bullshit." Gareth breathed out a laugh in spite of himself. "Oh hey, are you comin' tomorrow when me and Theresa, and Albert go out lookin' for those chickens?"

On his way to Terminus, Martin informed them he had heard the calls of several roosters. Gareth and others planned to search for them in hopes there were hens among the roosters to supply eggs. Not entirely necessary, but every bit helped.

"I'm about to croak from cabin fever, so hell yes."

"Gotta be someone's livestock."

"We'll take care of it," Gareth assured.

* * *

><p>The dewy air and heavy shield of clouds threatened rain, causing them to consider postponing until another day. Yet Gareth insisted they go despite the hazard.<p>

The leader led Theresa, Albert, and Martin through the woods in the direction Martin said he heard the rooster calls. The group was well-prepared. Gareth and Theresa wore backpacks ready to take whatever supplies they might find, and all four carried semi-automatic pistols as well as sharp blades.

Albert had finally been allowed to keep weapons in his room again, as well as wield them. Although Gareth and the others figured if he really wanted to take his own life, he would have found a way regardless of their restrictions. However, he appeared to be on the mends. He had requested to go along on this run himself—the first time since the Siege.

"You're from outside Atlanta right? Why don't you sound like you're from around here? Your brother does," Martin asked Gareth who laughed lightly at the question.

"I don't know." He shrugged. "My dad always said it was because I was the furthest thing from a southerner. Told you I'd never fired a gun before all this. I was all academics and books. That and I watched a lot of 90210 when I was a kid."

Theresa furrowed her brow. "You did not."

"Don't judge me," he teased.

"You were a 'mathlete' weren't you, Gareth?" Albert asked.

Gareth laughed a genuine laugh, one that came from inside his chest. It felt good, normal. "We didn't call ourselves that, but I was in a special group for kids who were good at it. Annnd I was the captain of the debate team in highschool."

"Damn, I'd have stayed fifty yards away from you at all times," Martin commented. The four of them chuckled at his remark.

"Martin, where did you come from?" Albert asked.

"I came up from Savannah with my family tryin' to find a place that was clear. We got ourselves to Atlanta when we heard there was a good shelter there. As soon as we could see the city on the horizon, we saw it bein' bombed."

"I was in one of those shelters," Theresa said. "Dumbass idea, putting a shelter in the middle of a horde of walkers." She scoffed.

"Lucky you got out alive then," Martin said.

"All by myself," she replied. Theresa had no family left—lost before she arrived at Terminus.

After a few seconds of silence, Albert inquired, "You think there are still places out there that are okay?"

Gareth squinted at the kid beside him. "'Okay?'"

"Yeah, I mean, in the whole wide world... it can't all be this," Albert extended his arms outwards.

"Yeah, maybe. But it's best not to dwell on it."

"Why?" Albert asked.

"Because it doesn't keep you alive."

Breaking the exchange, Martin whistled and pointed at an approaching walker, the first one they'd seen since venturing out.

"I got this," Theresa declared, unsheathing her knife and cautiously advancing toward the creature before plunging the blade into the top of its head. "This one just turned," she observed, noting the fresh-looking bite on its waist.

"Probably one of the owners of the chickens," Gareth said, joining her side. "Which means the owners might have all been turned and thus chowed down on their chickens. Let's follow that one's trail, see if any of them are left, and if so..."

"Catch them?" Albert asked.

"If they're smart, they wouldn't tag along with a group of armed strangers. But if they saw the signs and we tell them we're from Terminus, maybe we can get them to come back with us. But why would they have livestock in the middle of the woods? Loud livestock."

Theresa rolled her eyes. "Goddamn morons."

"Heh, wonder if it's the old group I was with, the idiot brigade," Martin said.

Theresa let out a long sigh. "Well, our chickens and chicken farmers are probably all dead."

"Yeah, probably, but they might have some supplies," Gareth reassured.

Following the walker's tracks, they eventually came across a campsite, finding four walkers. Three traipsed around, two males, one female, all newly turned. The other, a female, lay on the ground, eaten and mutilated so much it couldn't stand. The three undead then began to lumber toward the group. Gareth immediately stabbed the female walker and Theresa knifed the other female, but when she was about to kill the male, Martin stopped her.

"Whoa, whoa, wait! I want that one's hat, don't stab it." Martin bounced around in front of the creature as it snarled and attempted to reach him.

"Martin—" Gareth began.

Martin attempted to take the hat from its head with his free hand while avoiding its grasp. "Hang on! Parkour!" he shouted as he retrieved the baseball cap from the walker's head, narrowly missing its hand which aimed to claw his face. He then plunged his knife into its head, followed by a kick to its chest, pushing it to the ground. Albert laughed close-mouthed at Martin's stunt.

"You know you probably just alerted every other walker in a one-mile-radius that we're here," Theresa huffed as she moved over the one that still lay on the ground and pieced it with her blade. Martin ignored her comment and smiled triumphantly, placing the cap on his head.

Gareth ignored the two. "Search," he commanded.

"Holy shit, a Snickers bar!" Albert exclaimed, pulling out the unwrapped candy from a dead walker's pockets.

The way he looked at the piece of candy with such a delight was one Gareth hadn't seen since before the Occupation. He wondered if Snickers held some significance to Albert, or if the discovery of something special just happened to make his day.

"Must be your birthday," Gareth remarked.

Martin pulled a blue bottle from a backpack. "Yo, laundry soap. For cold-wash."

Gareth raised his eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"Mostly full too." He shook the bottle, making the liquid slosh inside.

Theresa came closer and examined the bottle with wide eyes. "I haven't seen any cold-wash detergent in a long time."

"Wonder where these people came from," Gareth mused.

They must have come a long ways if they had cold-wash detergent—a hot item that survivors lunged for. One that the Terminants hadn't found in good supply in quite some time.

"Hey, I found your chickens, Martin," Albert said from the periphery of the camp.

Three chickens, two roosters, and a hen lay torn apart, feathers scattered about.

"You can keep 'em," Martin replied without turning his gaze from the backpack he had his hands in.

Theresa searched a duffel bag that lay next the now cold campfire site. "Bullets, pecans, dirty underwear..." She listed the things she found as she removed them from the bag while tossing the soiled underwear to the ground.

"Theresa, don't litter," Gareth said in a mock shocked tone.

Theresa shook her head at the joke and continued to list the items, "...dirty socks, empty water bottle... hm, nice locket." She pulled out a golden oval locket that hung on a fine gold chain. The letters 'H.C.M.' were engraved on the front.

Flipping it open, it revealed a picture of a young boy of no more than eight with wavy, golden blonde hair. He grinned with a mouth full of missing teeth in front of a cloudy, blue background. From a school picture day, she assumed.

She stared at it for a few seconds, thinking of the children they lost in the Siege. There had been four—two girls and two boys. Albert had been the youngest survivor.

"You gonna take that?" Gareth asked.

"Gareth? What about kids?" she asked.

"If people show up with kids you mean?"

She nodded.

Gareth hoped it wouldn't ever come to that, but he knew it would. He didn't want to have to kill children, he didn't actually want to kill anyone, but he thought of the children the Occupiers murdered and it gave him pause.

What would they do? If the parents and or adults they were with said no to cannibalism, would they butcher the children too? Or spare them and keep them at Terminus? Yet killing their parents and holding them at Terminus sounded more cruel a fate that eating them, or was it? Children wouldn't be much of a meal though, the small ones at least. Maybe they would create an age limit, no younger than ten or twelve, but then what would they do with them?

"Gareth?" Albert asked, noticing his mind had ventured somewhere else.

"We'll meet on it," Gareth responded.

"Well, our haul's been good," Martin changed the subject.

After they took what they needed, they left the campsite as it was.

The journey back was quieter than the journey there. Theresa's questions about children had placed a cloud over Gareth's mind, filling him with dread over what they would do in such a situation.

As the four arrived back at the gates, backpacks and bags weighing down their bodies, Gavin approached them wearing a grim face. Gareth immediately knew something was wrong.

"Hey, uh, something happened," Gavin said, his voice gritty and low.

Gareth's mood fell even further. "Yeah?"

"It's Priscilla, she... she decided to go lights out."

"Oh no," Albert said. Theresa brought her hand over mouth. Martin didn't visibly react.

"Shot herself in the head in her room, not too long after you left. We heard a gunshot come from inside and hauled our asses over and found her on the floor."

Suicide had been a concern since they took Terminus back. Mary had been a social worker before the turn and often counseled suicidal youths. So she had taken it upon herself to speak to each person there and made a list of six people to be put on suicide watch. Albert had been one of their most at-risk as he'd proclaimed soon after they'd won back their home that he wanted to end his life.

Priscilla, who had also been on Mary's list, lost her ten year-old son Brian in the Siege, one of the four children who had inhabited Terminus. Brian had been the last family she had.

Gareth removed his backpack and handed it to Martin. "You guys drop the stuff off."

"Gareth, I—" Albert began.

"Go," Gareth ordered.

The three of them complied, venturing away without a word.

"She still there?" he asked.

"Yeah, come on," Gavin replied.

The two then ventured to the living quarters area of Terminus. Some people's rooms had formerly been storage areas and small rooms used as offices. They had since remodeled the area to where everyone had their own room and own door. It was something that never failed to entice newcomers.

Despite everything Gareth had witnessed in his life, the sight of Priscilla's body took him aback. She lay face down on the floor by the foot of her bed, a quarter of her head missing, brain matter spewed to the left. Her gun was nowhere in sight, Gavin told Gareth he had taken it.

"Does everyone else know?" Gareth asked.

Gavin nodded. "She wrote a note." He extended Gareth a small, yellow piece of paper that read in blue pen ink:

_I'm sorry I _coudln't_ do what you asked. I cant be a monster I'm not cut out for ths life or this world._

_i'm going to see my son now. I hope you can all find peace in this life._

_-_priscilla

The words 'I can't be a monster' rang in Gareth's head, making him recall Priscilla's reservations about their turn to cannibalism. It was just an hour earlier that he'd contemplated the idea of either eating children or sparing them. The irony was not lost on him.

He then handed the note back to Gavin who stuffed it in his coat pocket.

"Oh... god..." Gareth sighed and rubbed his forehead. "We should've known this would happen sooner or later."

"I thought it would've been Albert," Gavin said.

While wondering what to do with her body, it hit him: she's edible. Priscilla was one of theirs, but she was made of meat just like anyone else.

"Take her to the killing floor," Gareth commanded, eyes fixed on her corpse. Gavin's eyes grew wide at Gareth's command. "Did I stutter?" he snapped, looking back up to the other man.

"Gare, she's—she's one of our own."

"And now she's meat," he argued. Gavin remained still. "That wasn't a request, Gavin."

"Maybe we can talk about—"

"There is no discussion, take her now and butcher her or I'll find someone who will!"

"You said you weren't gonna be our dictator."

Gareth's face fell; he _had_ promised them he wouldn't become their dictator. And he meant every word.

"We can talk about this with everyone, you said we'd decide things together," Gavin added. Gareth clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm enough to hurt, his head running a mile a second.

_She's one of ours, but she's meat all the same. Maria and Stephen died taking Terminus back, we didn't eat them, but we didn't need to then._

"Fine, okay. Call everyone right now. Hurry," Gareth said. Gavin nodded and exited the room.

Stepping over just before Priscilla's body, Gareth sat on the edge of her bed, his weight making the springs creak. He rotated his vision across the room, noticing how bare it was. No trinkets, no books, only one pillow, and not even a picture of her son. Maybe she hadn't gotten around to redecorating after the Occupiers had ransacked the place, he speculated. Yet the real reason the room was empty was clear: she hadn't intended to stay.

Priscilla had been middle-aged and originally came from Spain. Gareth wondered if any of her family was still alive. She told them she knew they weren't, but now there would never be any way to know for sure.

Gareth thought of Albert's question to him earlier, if he thought there were any places left in the world that were 'okay.' Sighing at the memory, he stood up and began toward the map room.

Hurrying through the compound to the map room, he noticed the lack of people, indicating he had been in the woman's room for longer than he intended.

"Gareth!" Alex's voice sounded from behind him. Gareth ignored him and kept walking.

"Hey!" he yelled again.

"I'm not in the mood, Alex."

"HEY!" Alex shouted so loud it nearly rang his ears.

Gareth whirled around. "What!?"

"We're gonna write her name down in the church right?"

"What?" He had expected to hear Alex's objections over cannibalizing her, not this.

"She died 'cause of them. It's their fault, no matter who pulled the trigger."

Adding her name to the church hadn't crossed his mind. "Of course." He nodded, his voice soft.

"Okay, good," Alex said, nodding. He proceeded to march past Gareth in the direction of the meeting hall, Gareth then followed.

Upon his arrival, everyone had already gathered in the map room, standing in an organized circle. Gareth joined them, standing in front of one the tables used to create signs.

"Priscilla is dead, as you all know," he began, "and now we're faced with the issue that she has the potential to be meat. And in the future, what happens to our body if one of us dies and isn't infected. Now, we hadn't discussed this before, I'd thought about it, but very stupidly I ignored it like—" He started to mention the issue of what to do with children, but back-pedaled. The time for discussing that was not now.

He leaned back on the table and rested his hands on it. "—like I had some other tougher things. And I'm sorry I did, that's not what a good leader should do. I know some of you thought I'd crack in the beginning and that I'm not cut out for this, but I want you to be confident that I am. If most of you say you don't think we should do this, we won't. I said I wasn't going to be your dictator and I meant it."

"There's the guy I told you to keep alive, we have him instead. I think it's time," Cynthia spoke up.

"Or we could have Priscilla now and him when we need him. In the end, we'd come out with more meat if we have her," Wesley said.

"We have enough to feed ourselves right now though," Camille said.

"Most of it's packed in the crappy mini-fridge just seconds away from spoilin' at any minute," Alex commented.

"So, if we have Priscilla now, that's just that much more time until the meat in the fridge goes bad," another man said.

"The weather's cool out and gets cold at night, which means the fridge stays cold enough to keep it good for as long as we need," Gareth said.

"Then the fridge runs for longer, we need to use it as little as possible," Camille remarked.

"It'd be impractical to waste the girl," Martin said.

"Why do you get a vote? You're not even one of us yet," Theresa said to Martin.

"You think we shouldn't?" Martin asked.

"It doesn't matter, you didn't even know her you shouldn't be deciding her fate," Theresa snapped.

"Theresa—" Gareth began.

"She already met her fate," Martin said.

"Oh wow, such wise words, I didn't know you were capable," Theresa mocked.

"Hey!" Gareth shouted. "Martin stays. But please, both of you shut up for now." He felt a headache coming up.

More discussion then took place for half an hour with most leaning toward the butchering of Priscilla.

"Alright, raise your hands if you're in favor," Gareth proclaimed. To his surprise, all twenty-eight people in front of him raised their hands. He had to look across them several times to make sure what he saw was correct. Why even the people on the fence, like Camille, had agreed, he was unsure. Fear of resentment if they voted no? Yet they weren't afraid to speak their minds against it despite knowing Gareth favored it. And he said they wouldn't do it if most people opposed it.

_They trust me_, Gareth realized.

The sharp feeling against the back of his throat after he'd killed one of the Occupiers in front of his mother had returned. The same utter certainty that engulfed him in that moment had consumed him again.

_If everyone here trusts me enough to believe what I'm doing is right, then it is._

"Okay then. It's decided. If any of us die and aren't infected, then we're eaten," he declared.

* * *

><p>They decided to butcher and cook Priscilla before having her memorial, as she had been dead for several hours. Her grilled meat was eaten by itself with no sides. Some ate her fatty and tender meat with their hands and some with forks and knives.<p>

Eating Priscilla's body, to many, felt like the very first meal they had of human flesh. The glass wall that was shattered when they did so seemed like it had been shattered yet again. They knew this woman. They went through the Siege with her, they knew her son, they knew she hated the color orange, and that she always wore her hair up. And she had been with them on that fateful night, eating their Occupiers alongside them.

They now performed the same action with her that she declared she didn't want to partake in. The action she said she couldn't perform because she didn't want to be a monster. This second piece of sick irony of the day was not lost on anyone, but no one spoke of it. Being told by an outsider that what they were doing was horrendous, they could take. Outsiders couldn't understand, they weren't there during the occupation, they didn't know what it was like to be hungry. However, being condemned by one of their own was different. It hurt.

During their shared meal, Gareth paid special attention to Alex. He knew for a fact Alex would have vehemently opposed eating one of their own if the prospect had arisen during or soon after the turn to cannibalism. Previously, Alex had taken a shine to Priscilla's son, Brian, as well as the other three children who had lived there. He'd always been good with kids and always wanted his own one day. Gareth wondered if he still did.

His brother appeared solemn, but also appeared to be very much enjoying his meal.

Gareth watched the others as well, feeling he hadn't paid enough attention to them as they ate that first night because he had been too ensconced in his own meal.

Mary ate slowly, picking at her plate, lost in thought. Gavin ate in big bites, chewing every mouthful with great intent. Theresa took large sips of water through much of her meal, always after every fourth bite. Gareth always wondered why she did that, but hadn't yet asked why. Albert chewed on his piece, staring off into space, tearing off small pieces occasionally and swallowing them without having chewed much. Martin, of course, ate as if it was just another supper as he hadn't had any attachment to Priscilla.

Afterwards, they convened in the church, wrote Priscilla's name on the floor and placed her hand-crafted red hair ribbon that she had been wearing upon her death on her marker. Not many people who had been religious had remained so in this world, so no one requested any sort of religious tradition other than when Martin and Greg said they knew several Southern Baptists hymns. Gareth quickly shut down their attempt, assuming Priscilla would have been Catholic since she was from Spain. Although, she had never mentioned religion.

The decision to call the room the church had been Mary's idea. She felt it an appropriate title being that churches are places one goes to find direction, perspective, and a reason to keep moving forward. It was exactly what the memorial provided the people there.

* * *

><p>Alex and Theresa were the last ones remaining in the church, sitting next to each other cross-legged in front of a shelf of candles, gazing out at the room of names.<p>

"I should have known he'd have been a Southern Baptist before all this," Theresa said of Martin.

Alex chuckled. "Still don't like the guy, huh?"

"I don't trust him. We don't even know him," she said.

Alex knew what in particular she worried about. "He's not a rapist."

"And how do we know that for sure?"

"You know Gare has a sixth, and seventh, and eighth sense about people. He wouldn't have let him in if he got that vibe."

"I know he does and I know he wouldn't, but..."

"We've watched him, you know, lots of times when he didn't know it. He hadn't made a pass at any of the girls or been inappropriate. He's been here over a week and that's usually when it starts to show. And that story he told about the leader of his old group's girlfriend slash sister, if anything other than the classic tale of tryin' to get up the wrong girl's skirt and havin' her man kick your ass had gone down, he would've told a whole different story. And he didn't try to backtrack on it when we told him out past and our policies."

"Yeah, you're right. Actually, you're right," she said, her face relaxing a bit.

"That doesn't mean you gotta like him, just be able to live and work together and stay alive properly."

"You sound like Gareth," she said.

"There's no need to get nasty," he replied. They both laughed.

"Why aren't you pissed at me? I'm the one who brought him in here."

"Because you were just being you." Theresa had always admired Alex's compassion; she sometimes wished she had more of it herself. "Priscilla thought we were monsters," she said after a minute of silence.

"Maybe we are," Alex remarked.

"No, I can't believe that," Theresa said, looking down at her hands. "I know what monsters are. Those men did what they did to us for fun. We don't eat people for fun, there's a difference, Alex." Her voice rose with each word. She took a deep breath. "She was wrong. We're not the monsters."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I said that," Alex said, guilty.

"I know you... I know doing what we do has been especially hard on you, it's just..." she began. Alex attentively listened to her words. "It's different for me I'm... a woman and what happened to me..."

"You gotta be able to say the words. I look at these names here and still can't say most of 'em out loud." Alex motioned to the names scribbled on the floor.

"Like your dad's name?"

"Yeah."

"Then say his name."

"I'll say it if you say what happened to you."

"Okay."

"Michael Ellwood," he spoke the name of his father for the first time since his death, looking over to his name in the center of the circle.

Theresa swallowed, looking dead ahead. Alex waited, knew she was trying to find the courage. "I was raped, by I don't even remember how many of those men... probably all of them. And now I have to be damaged goods for the rest of however long I'll live."

"I don't see you as damaged goods," Alex said. Theresa gave him a warm smile, sending a buzz of heat through his system.

"Of course _you_ don't, I never thought you would."

Alex examined her face, realizing he loved everything about it. The way the candlelight illuminated her features made it difficult for him to hold back his desire to tell her how beautiful she was.

"If anyone thinks of you as damaged goods, I'll throw their ass on the grill myself," he said. Theresa again gave him a warm smile.

"Well, speaking of Martin, on a sort of lighter note," Theresa began, "David says he thinks Martin has a thing for Gareth."

"...because he follows Gareth around so much? Nah, he's just suckin' up to the boss."

Theresa shook her head. "David swears."

"Then poor Martin."

"Does Gareth have high standards?"

"You have no idea. In high school, there were _three_ girls who pined over him and he ignored them all," Alex said. Theresa rolled her eyes. "My mom said I always had the trashiest girlfriends I could find."

"What kind of trashy?"

"If Martin were a woman," he said, cracking up.

"Oh no," she laughed.

"Kinda the burden you bear, bein' the less-attractive brother."

"I don't think you're the less attractive one," Theresa said, resting her chin on her palm, looking him up and down. Alex did a double-take—was she flirting with him? "You're just sayin' that."

She brushed her bangs back. "Nah, Gareth's a pretty boy. I don't like pretty boys."

Alex laughed, joyful and excited. He'd always held a torch for Theresa, but he never thought she'd reciprocate. With his heart pounding, he decided to take a risk and kiss her. He leaned in, she didn't pull away, but as his lips began to brush against hers she jerked back.

"Oh... no," she said.

Alex felt humiliation wash over him, erasing his glee. "Oh, oh god. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I misinterpreted... I'm so sorry," he sputtered.

"No, you interpreted right, I just... being kissed is... and _that_..."

_Oh._

Alex felt like an idiot. They had just been talking about her assault, he should have known to ask her first.

"I'm sorry I should've known. Should've known..." He buried his face in his hands, muffling his words and trying to hide his bright red cheeks.

"I do want to spend more time with you, Alex." He brought his head back up and looked at her. "And I do... want to kiss you, I really do, but I..."

"I can wait. I've been waiting a while," Alex said softly.

"So have I."

"What? Really?"

Theresa threw her head back and giggled. "Yeah, you dumbass. You don't have a clue how to read signals, do you?"

"What signals?"

"Nope, you have to figure it out on your own. That's my lesson for you."

"Awww, that's not fair." Alex made a mock sad face.

"Okay, how about this. You think about it, try to remember when I gave you signals, and if you guess right, I'll give you a kiss on your cheek."

"Okay, that I can do." Alex grinned, some of his embarrassment fading away. "Oh hey, do you still have that locket?" he asked, recalling the piece of jewelry she'd shown him when they had taken inventory earlier.

"The desperately depressing one you mean?" she replied as she pulled the locket she'd found at the campsite from her pocket. Alex extended his hand outwards and Theresa dropped the necklace into his palm.

"I wanna put it on Priscilla's place," Alex said.

Theresa narrowed her eyes. "It's... not hers though."

"I know, but it was probably a mom or dad's locket of their dead kid, so it's kinda applicable." He popped open the front and stared at the picture of the child.

"Brian and Priscilla already have tokens though."

"I don't care, I'm puttin' it on hers." He closed the locket, leaned forward to Priscilla's name, and laid the gold chain and oval encasement next to her red hair tie.

"Someone's gonna see that and ask who the hell put it there. They'll toss it."

"Let 'em. At least it'll have had a day or two there," he said, moving back to Theresa who smiled sweetly at him.

Alex still tried to hold onto some form of old world sentiment, to do a few of the kinds of things people used to do in that other lifetime. He knew he had to stop waiting for the old world to return and accept the new one, but he took solace in small things that he felt at least kept him partly human.

He could be wearing the shoes of a man they'd corralled and killed and still want to perform the simple act of paying some sort of homage to a little boy he never met and never would. He knew it made him a hypocrite, but it allowed him a few more minutes of uninterrupted sleep at night.


	7. Bloodlust

With an urgent request for Gareth, Theresa traveled to his pseudo-office that he set up in the back of the facility. When she arrived, she found his door open. Not surprising, as he always wanted to be accessible.

Gareth leaned on the front of his desk, writing on a floppy white notepad he used as a duty roster. As she entered, he glanced up only long enough to see who it was.

"Hey Theresa," Gareth said, scribbling away. Theresa noticed his hair looked different, it was shorter, and he'd pushed his bangs away from his face. She thought it looked good, and didn't know why he didn't push his hair out of his face more often.

"Did I miss morning haircut day?" Theresa asked.

Gareth still didn't look up. "Yep, Kaylee is quite the artist. So what can I do for you?"

"We need to make a run to the pharmacy. The one ways and ways away."

"For?"

"It's about to be shark week for us women and we're fresh out of supplies." Theresa knew she could make any request to Gareth that would make most men uncomfortable and he wouldn't bat an eye.

Gareth flipped the page over. "What about those cups and washable underwear?"

"They only last so long."

"Sure, you have time off today, go for it. And make sure to take Martin."

"Please tell me you're joking."

Gareth bowed down his head and laughed. "Of course." He looked up at her.

"Cruel," she said.

Gareth set the notepad and pen on the desk behind him and rested his hands on the desk surface. "You've been spending a lot of time with Alex. I have to thank you for taking him off my hands."

Theresa gave a small laugh, but the comment annoyed her. She'd always disliked Gareth's patronizing attitude toward his brother. "It's no trouble."

"We need more of that these days."

"More of what?"

"Any sort of joy from anything other than not being dead or in imminent danger of dying."

Theresa nodded. "Pretty uncommon."

"Wait, who are you taking?" Gareth asked.

"Cynthia."

"Just two of you?"

"No one else wants to go. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, just take good firepower."

"Okay."

Theresa turned, exited Gareth's office and heading toward the room where Alex and Camille had been scheduled to do laundry. She figured Alex would be upset if she left without telling him.

As she arrived and entered the small room, the scent of the cold-wash detergent and dish soap filled the air. Only a bit of the rationed soap remained.

Alex sat next to Camille in front of a table with his hands deep in a sudsy bowl, squeezing at some sort of green fabric.

"Alex?" Theresa called.

"Hey, hi!" Alex smiled wide at the sight of her, the silly grin Theresa loved so much. Theresa and Camille exchanged polite smiles and Theresa gave Alex a come hither motion. Alex got up, dried his hands on a towel, and they slipped back out the door to get privacy..

Alex had been more than patient with Theresa, only kissing her when she initiated and not hugging her too tight. The previous night, Theresa had shown up at Alex's door and proclaimed she was ready to have sex with him. It didn't come easily for her. They sat together for over an hour, Alex slowly introducing Theresa to being touched again. Alex massaged her shoulders, back, and eventually her chest and thighs. Theresa requested they keep their shirts on and that Alex be slow and gentle, he complied. After a while, she became comfortable enough to enjoy his touch and they made love with great passion, falling asleep in each other's arms afterward.

"I'm about to head out," she said.

"My mom's cookin' tonight. Try to be home by then?" Alex brought his hand up from her waist to her shoulder causing the scent of laundry soap to waft up.

"This isn't a girl's night out at Chippendale's, Alex."

He burst out laughing.

"I'm not eager to go on a run, I just want to get this over with," she said.

"Okay, I'll see you then. Be careful."

Theresa always hated being told to be careful, even if it was a simple nicety. Yet she loved Alex's polite demeanor so much that she wasn't bothered.

Alex placed his hands around her waist and pulled her close, leaning in so they could exchange a soft kiss, resting his lips on hers for a few seconds before pulling away. He then stepped back toward the laundry room and they waved goodbye. Theresa inhaled, feeling sated and warm from his caress, and turned to head toward the back of the complex where the cars were kept.

She arrived to see Cynthia leaning against the mid-nineties, blue Dodge wagon they were to take. Cynthia had already collected the supplies they needed for their trip and looked impatient. She had gotten a haircut too—her strawberry blonde hair now rested just below her shoulders.

"We good to go?" Cynthia asked.

"Fantastic to go," Theresa replied.

Cynthia started up the vehicle and the two circled around to the gates as two men opened them for their departure.

Theresa and Cynthia conversed on the way, talking about everything from the weather to Theresa's relationship with Alex.

"Mary said she wants to adopt me as her daughter now," Theresa said. Cynthia laughed.

Mary had been overjoyed to hear Theresa and Alex had become involved romantically as she and Mary had always a special bond. She never forgot the way Mary comforted her and stroked her hair as they sat around the campfire the night after they'd taken Terminus back.

A while later, they arrived at the pharmacy on the edge of a small town. Several walkers staggered around in the parking lot outside. Cynthia and Theresa killed the few with their knives and ventured indoors.

Theresa didn't like the store, she wanted to leave as soon as she set foot inside and she knew Cynthia did too. After the Siege, the many runs they had to make included that shop. Cynthia, Mary, and Theresa had gone to this pharmacy together for a particular reason.

Cynthia, as well as several other women, had become pregnant as a result of their rape and sought out abortifacients. One of the girls had been caught trying to use a wire hanger on herself when Mary stopped her and told her she would go to a pharmacy nearby that carried the abortion pills behind the counter.

The act of ending her pregnancy was especially hard for Cynthia as she had always wanted a child. In the days after she found out, she said she felt as if there was a disease growing inside her and that she wanted to take a knife to her stomach.

Even then, not everyone at Terminus knew several of the women had become pregnant. Gareth had known where and why Theresa, Mary and Cynthia had made the run, but per request told the others it was for standard medications like aspirin. Several people they hadn't intended to tell, however, did find out when they went through the bags the women brought back.

"Hey, what do you think?" Cynthia asked, sporting a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses from a display

Theresa chuckled. "I think you'd look strange knifing a walker while looking like Lolita."

She took the glasses off and placed them in her bag. "Takin' 'em anyway."

The women took the supplies they needed as well as frivolous things like candy and a few pieces of jewelry. Theresa noticed the store looked virtually untouched since they'd last been there.

"Don't look like anyone's been here since us," Cynthia said as she climbed in the driver's seat.

"They might have. It's not like we have a photographic memory of the place," Theresa replied as Cynthia started up the engine.

After getting half of the way back, they spotted a young man, no older than Albert, on the side of the road. He waved his arms and yelled at them as they approached.

"Stop," Theresa said.

"You sure?"

"We can take him back with us."

The rule to ask new arrivals if they would accept cannibalism so far had only gotten two takers. One being Martin, and the other a woman who had said yes before trying to escape a day later. She was corralled immediately when they caught her.

Cynthia turned the car and slowed to the side of the road, coming to a stop beside the young man. He had messy, dark, and slightly wavy hair that matted to his forehead with sweat along with blood and dirt-stained clothes. His only visible weapon was a hammer in his belt loop.

Theresa moved her left hand to grip the handle of her gun, ready to fire on a second's notice. She rolled down her window as the man approached.

"Hey, wow thank you for stopping. Oh god, I've been looking for people, I've been on my own for oh god I..." he stammered.

"Where'd you come from?" Theresa asked.

"All over. I—I lost my camp and I saw a sign for a place called Terminus. It said to follow the tracks, but I can't find them."

"We're from Terminus," Cynthia said.

"Oh my god, really!? Oh, please take me back with you. Please, I won't be any trouble. I promise. You can search me and everything."

Theresa opened her car door, hand still gripping her weapon, and stepped out in front of the man. Cynthia then opened her door and came around to frisk him.

"Oh, right. Sorry." He raised his arms up as Cynthia patted him down. She found no other weapon than the hammer.

"You got a name?" Cynthia asked.

"Riley."

"I'm Cynthia."

"Theresa."

"Super nice to meet you," Riley said.

_This kid probably thinks two young women couldn't possibly have ulterior motives. Especially since there's not even anything on him to steal._ Theresa considered that to be the only advantage women might have in this world.

"Okay, Riley, if we take you back you're gonna need to give us the hammer," Theresa stated.

The new protocol at Terminus let newcomers keep their weapons as a way to build trust, but there were only two of them. No snipers on roofs and people all around to take him out at the first sign of trouble.

"Oh... okay," Riley agreed, pulling the hammer from his belt loop and handing it to Theresa.

"Get in the back," Theresa said in a voice that sounded more like an order than a request.

Riley complied as Cynthia and Theresa returned to their original places in the vehicle. Theresa placed the hammer on the passenger's seat floor in front of her, left hand still resting on the gun's handle.

"So, how long until we get there?" Riley asked.

"About thirty minutes," Cynthia said.

"How old are you?" Theresa inquired.

"Fifteen. I used to have a family, but they..."

"I'm sorry," Cynthia said.

"It's alright, we've all lost people. Just part of the package," he said.

They exchanged more small talk. Theresa and Cynthia telling rosy tales of Terminus and the great amount of room they had there. Riley became more and more excited with every word.

"How much longer now?" Riley asked.

"About twenty minutes," Theresa replied.

"Oh man, 'cause I really gotta take a leak. Could we stop?" he requested.

Theresa thought it could be a trap. That he might use the opportunity to try to steal their supplies and or car. Before she could react, Cynthia slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. Theresa flashed Cynthia a startled look. Cynthia looked back at her, attempting to convey the words 'trust me' with her eyes.

"Thanks guys." Riley then bolted out of the car and into the woods behind a tree.

"Why did you do that?" Theresa demanded.

"If we told him he couldn't take a leak, what would he think of us then? We gotta build trust, remember?" Cynthia replied. Theresa began to pull the gun from her holster a bit.

Cynthia's eyes grew wide at Theresa's action. "No!"

"It's a precaution. I'm not gonna kill him," Theresa griped.

Martin's divine ability to get under Theresa's skin had soured her to the idea of accepting new people, but this kid reminded her of Albert. She began to wonder if he and Albert could be friends.

Riley then emerged from the woods running from a walker. Theresa whipped out her gun, stepped out of the car and aimed at the walker's head.

"Wait, let me get out of the way!" Riley yelled. He lunged to the side, narrowly avoiding the walker's grasp. Theresa then shot the walker through the head, killing it.

"Oh man, that was a close one. Imagine that, on my way to a nice place and get eaten before I even get there," Riley said as he approached Theresa.

In a swift motion, Riley stepped forward and knocked Theresa's gun from her hand. Riley stumbled down and grabbed it off the ground before Theresa could. He gripped the gun and then raised it at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to," he said.

Cynthia had emerged from the driver's seat and stopped dead in front of the car at the sight of Riley with Theresa's gun. Cynthia regretted having removed her holster—which contained her weapons—in the car because they had become uncomfortable.

"You seem like nice people, but I can't take that chance, not again. I don't want to hurt you, I'm just gonna take the car okay? I won't go to Terminus. And you seem strong, you can make your way back there. Now raise your hands, both of you." Riley's voice shook with every word.

They both raised their hands as per his command.

Theresa was enraged, feeling like a shaken-up soda can that was about to burst. She wanted to kill Riley.

Riley pointed to the grassy area just before the woods. "Go stand over there."

They began to tread toward the location as Theresa's heart pounded from anger. She couldn't believe this was happening again.

As Theresa moved past Riley, she searched for an opportunity to get her gun back. She didn't see one until a bird squawking in a tree beside them made Riley avert his eyes for a second. Theresa then sprang forward, punching Riley in the face and taking the gun from his hand. He floundered back, almost falling over and immediately raised his hands as Cynthia and Theresa had. Theresa aimed her gun square at Riley's head.

"Please don't kill me. No, no, no please," Riley cried. "I didn't want to hurt you. I thought you'd be okay out here. You could've walked back. I mean, you have that knife."

"You were going to send us out there, two people with one fucking knife!" Theresa spat.

"I'm sorry," he said. Theresa continued staring him dead in the eyes. "Let me go, I'm better off on my own anyway. I'll never go to Terminus, I swear, I promise _on my life_ I won't." His jaw trembled.

Theresa thought about it. It _was_ a different situation. They couldn't let anyone go at Terminus even if they wanted to, lest word get out about what they do. Riley didn't know what they did, but he could be lying, he could go to Terminus. If he showed up there he'd be meat anyway, they'd never let him in after the stunt he just pulled. She figured she might as well make him meat now.

Yet what drove Theresa to want to squeeze the trigger was that he had made her and Cynthia completely helpless, totally at the mercy of a stranger. She hadn't felt that way since the Siege and it infuriated her to feel it again. They would have had to walk miles with only one weapon.

Meanwhile, everyone at Terminus would have worried. And if they'd survived the journey back, they'd have to carry the humiliation of having been car-jacked because they let a fifteen-year old they picked up take a piss.

No, but that wasn't Theresa's doing, that was Cynthia's. Theresa doubted Cynthia would ever do something like that again.

She briefly wondered what Alex would do. He'd kill him, but he certainly wouldn't enjoy it. Theresa, on the other hand, wanted to kill Riley because he'd made her the cattle again.

She pulled the trigger.

Riley jerked back, falling flat on his back. The corner of Theresa mouth twitched upwards a tad as she felt some of her rage alleviate.

Theresa turned to Cynthia. "We couldn't have let him live," she said. Cynthia nodded.

"Come on, let's load him up. More walkers ought to be showing themselves soon." Theresa walked over to the car and opened the back hatch. The two then lifted Riley's body by his legs and shoulders and placed him in the back.

The rest of the drive back was completely silent as Theresa mulled over what just happened, thinking of how she'd explain what happened. It was shameful that he had bested them like that, and she didn't look forward to having to confess it.

When they arrived back, they first went to the back of the car and opened the hatch, revealing to Wilson, one of their resident butchers, Riley's body. Theresa told him, and then Gareth, what had happened.

"Wait, which one of you..." Gareth began to ask who had killed Riley.

"I did," Theresa replied.

Alex embraced Theresa when he found her, telling her how happy he was that she was okay as he led her indoors to get her something to eat.

The rest of the day went on as planned. Mary baked a meatloaf in a wood-burning stove, and after dinner, several people gathered to play poker in the rec room. Theresa enjoyed the recreation after the experience she had, but felt a pressing need to get away to some place quiet. Although, she didn't want to head to bed early lest people think she was upset over what happened.

Once it had become late enough, all she wanted to do was sleep a deep, dreamless sleep. She had begun to venture toward her room when she realized she'd rather sleep in Alex's bed. Arriving at his door, she knocked—no answer. Regardless, she opened the door and stepped in, immediately smelling the scent of clean sheets. It soothed her as she took off her shoes and socks and lay down on his bed first on her back, then turning over on her side facing the door. One of Alex's four pillowcases was a different color than the others. Three were light blue while the other was a pale orange, a terrible color combination. She smiled at the fact that mismatching colors and not caring was so Alex.

She lay there for ten minutes, occasionally turning over while trying not to think of her actions on the road, but it was _all_ she could think of. She'd told no one that she enjoyed killing Riley, although she assumed Cynthia probably knew from the expression she'd seen on her face. Theresa didn't know if she would tell anyone of the blood lust that came over her.

Alex eventually arrived, his face illuminating at the sight of her.

"Theresa, hi!" he beamed, taking off his jacket and tossing it on a chair near the door.

"Can I sleep here with you? Just sleep this time," she requested.

"Yeah of course, I'd love that."

Theresa could tell Alex hadn't expected to find her in his room. Seeing his exuberance at the sight of her filled her chest with a rumbling of heat.

They undressed into their undershirts and underwear and climbed into bed together. Theresa spooned Alex from behind, burying her face against the back of his neck. Alex fell asleep almost instantly, and Theresa soon did the same.

* * *

><p>Before dawn, she awoke from a dream about Riley. One where he showed up at Terminus with a dusk sky in the background shaded with orange from the sunset, the kind of sunset Alex liked to draw. Riley shook the fence and screamed her name over and over with great anger, more rage filling his voice with each repeat of her name.<p>

She hadn't personally killed any of their meals before, she didn't think it would effect her so much. After all, the butchers never seemed too bothered. She'd killed living people before, but only out of self-defense and necessity. This act felt different than luring people into their trap and killing them. They did that because it was imperative and they were always given a choice. Theresa didn't give Riley a choice.

She wondered again if Riley could have made friends with Albert.

Theresa didn't feel guilt over killing Riley in the way most would expect. She was stuck on the fact that she'd changed beyond recognition. Gareth always said spending too much time mourning the person you used to be was dangerous, she knew this. And she repeated the 'butcher or the cattle' and 'lion or the antelope' mantras of Terminus in her head to remind her.

Theresa was awake, very awake. She had the sudden desire to get up and go outside, the traincar where the last two Occupiers were housed in mind. Her violent impulse returned from when she fired her gun into Riley's head.

Theresa and Alex had reversed positions in their sleep, and Alex now held Theresa from behind. It discomforted her that not even the blissful feeling of heat emanating from someone she thought she was probably in love with could quell her aggressive desires.

Carefully removing herself from his grasp, she moved over to her pants that she'd discarded on the chair, and pulled them on along with her shoes and socks. She put on Alex's coat as she didn't want to go all the way to her room to retrieve her own.

What her intention was while traveling to the traincar where the last two thugs were, she didn't know. But she knew she intended to do _something_. She didn't have a weapon on her, and probably couldn't barge in there and kill them. Although maybe she could pound on the outside like Cynthia sometimes did and scream at them. She wasn't sure, but the anger at those who had taken advantage of her was still burning and she wanted to do something to put it out.

The outside air was crisp and cold, causing her to zip-up Alex's jacket. She made it to the traincar to see someone leaning their back against the side of it with their foot pressed against it. As she came closer, she saw it was Martin. She let out an exasperated sigh, wanting to do whatever it was she was going to do alone.

Martin spotted her before she could avoid him. "What are you doin' out here?"

"I needed air," she lied.

"I'm on a break from the graveyard shift," Martin said.

Theresa considered skulking around until Martin's break was over and then returning to the traincar. She was conspiring and knew whatever she was going to do, it would be bad.

"Hey, thanks for okay-ing me in. I was worried you'd never do it." Martin turned to face Theresa, now leaning on his shoulder.

"It was no problem."

"So you decided I wasn't a rapist?" Martin asked.

Theresa wondered if Martin had guessed her worries or had been told. "Yes."

"It's alright, I'm not offended. You were just bein' cautious. It's smart."

Theresa crossed her arms, her pants were too thin to keep her legs warm, and the cold was unforgiving.

"What about that kid on the road? You think he'd have said okay to all this if he hadn't tried to car-jack you?" Martin seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Maybe," Theresa said.

"Had you ever killed any of our meat supply before?" Martin asked.

"No." The next question left her mouth before she could think, "Have you ever killed anyone you absolutely didn't have to?"

"You didn't _have to_ kill the kid did you?"

"He begged for his life, said he'd never come to Terminus."

"Hm."

"You didn't answer my question."

Theresa didn't know why she was out there at five in the morning attempting to have a heart-to-heart to Martin, but she figured it might decrease the chance of her opening the traincar and killing the last two Occupiers with her bare hands.

"A guy once took off with my bag of supplies," Martin began, "it had two squirrels, three nectarines, a box of bullets, bottle of creek water, and a change of clothes. I chased him through the woods, tackled him, threw a few punches at him, and got my shit. We got up and he froze in front of me for a few seconds. He didn't pull a weapon on me or try to get my stuff back, he just stood there, and so did I.

"Then a biter came outta nowhere and I grabbed the guy and pushed him at the thing. It tore into his neck and I backed away a few feet and watched for a few seconds. Then I hauled ass back off to where I'd been resting. He probably wasn't much older than the kid you killed."

"Were you alone then?" Theresa asked.

Martin nodded. "Right after my first group had all bit the dust."

"Did you feel bad?"

"I was so fucked up from losing everyone I ever cared about and he made me so fucking mad that I didn't care enough to care that I didn't care."

"Do you care now?"

"It was a long time ago."

"Not that long."

"A day is a month nowadays," Martin said as he lifted himself from the side of the traincar. "Well, my break's over, have a nice night or morning or whatever," he said as he began toward the far side of the complex.

Theresa realized she was shivering from the cold. Still standing in place, she pondered what to do next. The overpowering need to get back at those who had made her feel like nothing but a usable object had faded. She then realized she was exhausted, her eyes burning, and her cold limbs aching for a warm bed.

She turned around and headed back to Alex's room, wanting nothing more than to heat her icy skin. She arrived to find that Alex hadn't moved at all from when she left him. She quickly discarded her extra clothes and climbed back into bed with him.

_A day is a month nowadays_. Martin's words echoed in her head.

She hadn't thought of it in those terms before. She and everyone there at Terminus had had to change so radically and so quickly, that days did seem like months. Before the turn, it would take people years or even decades to change in the way she and they had to in such a short time.

_In a week, it'll have been seven months since I happily pulled the trigger and killed that _fifteen year-old_ boy. And maybe by then it won't matter anymore. Maybe I'll have changed so much in that time that like Martin said, I won't even care enough to care that I don't care._


	8. Happy Thanksgiving

**A/N:**

Not a chapter update per se, just something special because today is (or yesterday was) Thanksgiving. ;)

Meant to be as hilarious as it is horrific.

And thank you to the person who's been reviewing my work with such love. You help keep me inspired.

And yes Guest reviewer, Gareth/Martin love will happen within the next few chapters. :D

* * *

><p>Mary had always prepared the Thanksgiving turkey each year for her family. Her mother had done the same and so had her mother—it was tradition. But this year, she was baking a ham per Gareth's request.<p>

Michael always pitched in and helped with the process as Mary declared she wouldn't have any of that 'cooking is a woman's job nonsense.' He baked the cherry and apple pies as well as set the table. And Mary's sister Patricia and her husband John always brought the sweet potato pie, which was Alex's favorite.

Michael's parents—Jackson and Mabelle—also joined every year for the festivities. And this year, Gareth had brought his girlfriend Chelsea whom he'd met at university where they both majored in computer science.

"That's not more anime porn, is it?" Gareth said as he strolled into the den where Alex sat alone on the couch, watching an animated TV screen.

Alex glanced up at Gareth before shaking his head. "It's Naruto, man."

"Good, because I used up all my eye wash from last time." He crossed his arms and smirked. Alex ignored him.

Placing himself on the sofa to Alex's right, he wondered if it would avert his attention—it didn't. He proceeded to wave his hand in front of his brother's face.

Alex leaned away, attempting to maintain his vision of the TV while Gareth snickered. "D—dude, stop!" He picked up the remote that rested to the left of him and paused the anime, letting out an exasperated sigh. "What do you want?"

"Pat tried to tell us again about her snow globes. And since I nearly fell asleep, I did a bad, bad thing and left Chelsea in there with her just so I could come bother you."

"I kinda like her snow globes."

"Yeah, but they seem to take up at least one-third of her life."

Alex turned off the TV and stood up. "Then _I'll_ go talk to her about 'em." He slapped his hands together as he exited the room.

"Hey, what did you say to Alex?" Chelsea appeared in the doorway after Alex had disappeared.

Gareth grinned and stood up, crossing the room to meet her. "I told him I was a bad, _bad_ boy," he said in a lascivious tone, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, god." She rolled her eyes. They both chuckled as they departed from the room and ventured down the hall into the kitchen.

"Hey mom, how long?" Gareth asked.

"About ten minutes," Mary said as she pulled off her oven mitts and set them on the counter.

"I'm so glad I get to eat for two," Patricia said to Mary as she rubbed her eight-month pregnant belly.

"Yo, Alex, where's _your_ girlfriend?" John patted Alex on the back as he walked past.

"Hey, that's not fair." Alex feigned an amused smile.

"He may not be my real grandson, but I love him," Michael's father Jackson whispered of Alex into his son's ear.

Michael spun around, his eyes wide. "Dad!"

Jackson shrugged. "What, he didn't hear."

"Chelsea, Gareth, can I get a picture of you two? I just learned how to do these cell phone cameras," Mabelle said as she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

"Yeah, sure." Gareth put his arm around Chelsea and they smiled for Mabelle's camera.

"Aw, you're so adorable," Mabelle squealed.

* * *

><p>After every dish had been prepared and laid out on the dining table, all nine of them sat at the table, eagerly awaiting their meal.<p>

"So, what are we thankful for this year?" Michael asked.

Gareth turned his gaze to Chelsea. "This beautiful woman who graces me with her presence every day."

"God, Gareth stop." Chelsea placed her hand on her temple, trying to hide her reddening cheeks.

"Hey, wait. Where'd grandma and grandpa go?" Alex looked at their empty seats to his left.

Michael furrowed his brow. "Huh, that's odd. They were just here."

"Guess we'll never know." Gareth shrugged.

John grimaced and suddenly began clutching his stomach.

"You okay, babe?" Patricia placed her hand on his forearm. John groaned and removed his hands to reveal a bleeding wound on the side of his stomach.

Patricia bolted up from her seat and placed both her hands over her mouth. "Oh my god! What happened!? John!"

"Hey, there's no yelling on Thanksgiving," Gareth scolded.

"Patricia, calm down," Mary said as if Patricia was overreacting.

John sluggishly pulled himself to his feet when he collapsed and fell flat on his back just behind his and Patricia's chairs.

Patricia knelt down beside him and placed her hand on his forehead. "He's burning up!" she shouted.

"Got bit, babe," John whimpered.

"No, no you have to stay here. For Mira." Patricia was no longer pregnant and held a baby girl in her arms. She extended the child to John's face as it began to cry.

"Uh, this is kinda awkward, but Patricia, Mira's been bit too." Alex scrunched his face and rubbed the back of his neck.

Patricia shrieked when she saw the bite on the now wailing baby's back.

"You wanna start serving?" Michael said to Mary.

"Yes, I'm _starving_," she replied.

As Michael began to extend his arms out to reach the plate of meat, three consecutive gunshots sounded. Patricia had shot John and Mira at point-blank range with a pistol before placing it against her temple and firing. Their bodies lay slumped over each other, blood pooling out and soaking into the rug.

"Aw man, she splattered blood on my shirt. I just bought this," Alex fussed.

Chelsea then fell forward, her face smacking against the empty plate before her. A bite wound had appeared on her neck that spurted blood onto Gareth's hands and plate as he laid them on the table.

"Aw Chels, really?" Gareth sighed and wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans.

"Gareth, I think..." Mary began.

"Oh yeah, I guess you're right." Gareth leaned forward and picked up the carving knife that lay on the platter next to the ham. He gripped the black handle and plunged the knife all the way through the center of Chelsea's head, making a _clink_ when the edge hit the fine china underneath.

"Won't have any problems from her," he said as he dislodged the bloody knife and twirled it in his hand.

"_Now_, can we eat?" Alex said.

"Yes, I'm sick of these interruptions," Michael proclaimed, throwing up his hands.

A long blade abruptly impaled Michael in the middle of the chest, freezing his movement.

Gareth rolled his eyes. "Ugh, what now?"

The leader of the Occupiers stepped out from behind the chair to reveal himself, giving a small smile and wave with his free hand.

"Hey! The man of the hour!" Alex cheered.

The leader removed the blade, then brought it down on Michael's left shoulder, severing his arm. The limb made a hard _clunk_ as it hit the rug below. He then drove his sword straight through Michael's throat, causing him to gurgle and sputter as blood poured down his chest.

"You never fail to impress." Mary raised her hands and applauded. He removed his weapon from Michael's throat, took a bow, then stepped back a few feet, watching the three.

"Alright, Alex?" Gareth said.

"Nah, you slice it, Gare. It was your idea to get this cut of meat anyway," Alex replied.

What had been a honey-roasted ham was now a human male's torso that had been skinned and baked.

"Hey well, you get credit, you skinned it, Alex," Gareth praised.

"Yeah, and it was a bitch too."

Gareth took the knife he had used on Chelsea and proceeded to slice off several pieces of the pink flesh from the rib and stomach area, then placed a serving on each of their plates. They divided their portions with forks and knives before taking their first bites.

"Oh my god, this is incredible!" Gareth's exclamation was muffled by his full mouth.

"No shit, man. I could eat this for the rest of my life," Alex beamed.

"Hats off to you, Gareth," Mary said, pointing her fork at Gareth.

"Hey, what about me?" The leader of the Occupiers said in a mock sad tone, stepping forward.

"Oh, how did we forget? Mom, Alex, say thanks to the man who made all of this possible."

"Thank you," Mary said as she brought another piece to her mouth.

"Thanks, man, couldn't have done it without you," Alex said as he chewed furiously.

"And all of you. We couldn't have gotten here without what your departures gave us," Gareth said as he looked over the bodies of Chelsea, Michael, Patricia, John, and Mira and the empty chairs of his grandparents.

Several loud bangs broke through the exchange, causing them all to turn their attention to the sliding glass door just beyond the dining table.

Two blonde women, one young and one middle-aged, pounded their fists on the glass, crying and pleading to be let inside. The younger one wore red hoop earrings that bounced around vigorously as she struck the glass.

"Should we get that?" Gareth questioned.

"No, let's finish our meal first. This here is enough for now, we'll take care of that later," Mary said, making a point to focus her eyes on the meat.

"Hey, if those chicks keep poundin' on the door, that glass might break," Alex said.

"We'll get them before it does," Gareth assured him.

* * *

><p>Gareth awoke to find himself asleep in the chair of his office with his head resting on the desk. He noticed that he had been drooling when he lifted his head up and one of the pages on his notepad stuck to his saturated lips. Despite the fact he'd been asleep, he felt exhausted, slightly nauseated and his head spun.<p>

_That was new_, he thought.

Never before had he had a dream where the warm memories of the past collided with the tragedies of the present without producing nary a bad feeling. He felt an unease at the fact that he, Alex, and Mary were praising the leader of the Occupiers for helping make them this way—as if they enjoyed what they did. He had been insulted by his own mind.

However, it was the first time Gareth had had one of the visions that hadn't been wrought with terror, despair, and grief. He faced every one of those events without faltering, or even admitting something was wrong. Maybe it was a good sign, he thought, maybe he was healing, getting stronger. Perhaps it was a sign of progress that he was able to see those things again without wanting to curl up and ball his eyes out. That he could maintain his composure no matter what.

Gareth reached for his water thermos and gulped down the last half of it, relieving his parched throat. Checking his wristwatch, he saw the time was 3:30am—he had been asleep at his desk for four hours. He stared at the hands of his watch, wishing it would be 7:00am already so he could start the day, making him debate whether to stay up or to go to bed. If he did, he worried the dream he had was a fluke and as soon as he rested his head on his pillow, the nightmares would return. Not sleeping would be a mistake though as sleep-deprivation produced poor performance.

Standing up, thermos in hand, he trekked back to his room. He fell asleep almost instantly after he climbed into bed. Nightmares didn't come to him; no old memories intertwined with recent ones. Only Terminus and the simple daily tasks he had to perform each day filled his dream-state. Which in truth was what he preferred to focus on despite the fact that his mind often wouldn't let him.


	9. Days Gone By

Two new people had accepted Terminus' terms and conditions. A pair of cousins, one named Hayley and the other Allison. This time, they had stayed for two days before the cold, hard, iron-scented facts of Terminus were delivered to them. They reacted with horror at first, but the sight of dinner being prepared and eaten among a group of people who had walls, fences and a community erased all desires to accept death out of principle.

At the same time, the Occupier who Cynthia had requested be kept alive had died of an unknown illness and turned in the train car where he had been moved to starve in solitary. Albert suggested they chain up his walker and keep it as a token of victory and another reminder of days gone by. Gareth and the others readily accepted his proposal.

Taunting the Occupier's walker had become a popular pastime at Terminus. The butchers had taken fresh cuts of human meat and dangled them in front of it, snickering when the shackles prevented it from reaching its desired flesh.

Using the man's reanimated corpse as a source for amusement felt like an ironic divine justice to every resident.

* * *

><p>Mary had become regretful that she still sought out comfort from her children when she had nightmares after dark. She wanted to be like Gareth, stoic and seemingly unflappable.<p>

Gareth assured her that she was already much more like him than she thought and no one would lose respect for her by admitting she was still human. However, he decided he didn't cry anymore.

Mary had knocked on Gareth's door just as he was nodding off and he'd groggily accepted her in his arms as she soaked his white cotton shirt with tears. Gareth had always been the ideal rock to lean on.

After Mary's sobs had finally faded, Gareth thought they would both fall asleep in each other's arms on his bed until he felt the sudden onset of sharp hunger pangs in his gut. He couldn't sleep when he was hungry, not even a little bit. He used to drive his parents up the wall when he was a baby and would cry late at night to be fed whenever he became even the slightest bit peckish. Mary or Michael would stagger into his nursery and feed him several mouthfuls from the bottle before he'd fall back asleep. He would often repeat the cycle several times throughout the night.

"Hey, mom? I'm really hungry, will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes? I won't be too long," Gareth whispered.

"You don't have to whisper, and yes, I'll be fine," Mary reassured.

Mary lifted her head and Gareth carefully departed from his place, muscles aching from having been idle in the same position for so long. He slipped out the door and through the dimly light corridors and courtyard where the night's previous heavy downpour of rain had slowed to a light drizzle. It was a warm, balmy spring-like shower. Gareth dreaded spring and summer, and the heat and humidity that accompanied it, being that the heat made the stench walkers carry that much worse.

His goal was set on Terminus' dead-at-any-minute mini-fridge where the leftover meat from the day's butchery had been stored.

As he arrived at the kitchen and stepped inside, not to his surprise, he saw Martin kneeling in front of the appliance with his right arm buried in it. Once, Martin had stuffed four musty Bud Lights he found on a run inside of it while removing someone's sandwiches and eating one of them. His claim was that someone had taken the sandwiches out just before he'd gotten there and he happened to walk by with four beers where there also happened to be a space available in the fridge the size of four cans. That was when official usage rules had to be drawn-up.

Gareth also spotted Alex sitting at the table, writing something on a piece of paper.

_Perfect_. Gareth decided he would ask Alex to go to Mary while he ate his fill.

"Hey Martin, you delivering a baby?" Gareth said of Martin's arm in the fridge.

"Oh, heh, yeah." Martin smiled awkwardly as he turned his vision to Gareth who made his way to Alex at the table.

Alex turned to greet his brother as Gareth approached him and leaned down to whisper into his ear. Gareth didn't want Martin in on this, but he knew he'd probably hear anyway.

"Would you go sit with mom for a little bit? She's in my room, she had a rough dream. I was hungry, so I had to get something to eat."

"Sure, okay yeah." Alex set his pen down beside the paper and stood up.

Gareth glanced down at the piece of paper Alex had been writing on. "Hey, what's this?"

Alex's face tensed, worried Gareth would disapprove. "Uh, it's a family tree. I was just bored."

"Huh." Gareth simply stared at it as if it were a grocery list.

Alex waited for a further reaction before he strolled out of the room. Gareth then turned his gaze to Martin, who was staring at him, a hand still inside the refrigerator.

Gareth had realized Martin had been nursing a crush on him. He'd known for longer than he wanted to admit because he'd been wishing it weren't true. Whether Martin just had a desire to get in his pants or something more, Gareth didn't know and didn't care as he wasn't interested in reciprocating. Gareth presumed that Martin thought he wasn't interested in men, which he occasionally was, or Martin would have made a pass at him a long time ago. He intended to keep Martin's lack of knowledge on that subject just that.

"Is there something you want to say, Martin?" Martin's continued eyeing irked Gareth.

Martin shut the fridge door empty-handed and stood up. "Huh? What, no, it's just I didn't know Mary was still having nightmares. I mean, I didn't think she wouldn't be, but I didn't know either way so…"

"Well, thanks for your concern. So, was Alex talking to you about that family tree he was making?"

"Yeah, actually he was. I told him to shred it before you or Mary saw it, but you don't seem too bothered, huh?"

Gareth thought about it, did it bother him? No, not really. His mother was in a fragile state and he had to keep this place running and his people fed, why would he devote time to being upset about a list of his dead relatives?

"It's not important."

"Well, have a good night Gareth." Martin waved and sauntered off.

_Yeah, sure. This night is going to be just great._

Gareth moved over to the mini-fridge Martin had left his paw prints all over and found it still contained thigh meat from a man pulled and butchered from _A_ earlier that afternoon.

The previous sounds of labored whimpering, skulls being cracked, electric saws being run and the wet slapping of meat and organs being thrown in the _FEED_ container had all been replaced by the cranky, low whir of the refrigerator that now housed the fare those sounds had produced. The butchers had often complained they couldn't get the smell of fresh blood out of their noses so they would trek to the courtyard and bury their faces in the sunflowers. They said sometimes they'd even get the taste of blood in their mouths and joked that they'd rather not be vampires, just cannibals.

_"Vampires are cannibals, Gavin,"_ Gareth had said.

The middle-aged, balding man who had arrived two days prior and whose cooked and sliced meat was now being chilled, had been named Gary. It had made for an interesting conversation between him and Gareth over the trough.

_"Gary, huh? That's not short for Gareth or Garrett is it?"_

_"N_—_no."_

_"Aw, that's a shame, I thought we could be name buddies. Not too many people have my name, that's why my father chose it. Did you know it first appeared in the fifteenth century in a compilation of Arthurian legends? Apparently, my namesake sat at the round table, who knew. I also heard it might've originated from the Welsh word for 'gentleness.' I don't know if that's ironic or not. People have always tried to call me Gary, god how I've always hated it. 'Gare' is okay. Ever had the misfortune of someone calling you Gare-bear over the age of ten?"_

Gary hadn't replied.

_"Come on man, I'm talking to you. I know this sucks, but you made your choice. And honestly, I respect that, I really do. Now answer my question?"_

_"M_—_m_—_my aunt used to call me Gare-bear until she died."_

_"See, that wasn't so hard. I'll make sure to remember that, Gary."_

Gareth sat hunched over at the table eating the slices with his hands, too tired and too eager to have the night over and done with to care. He noticed that Gary didn't taste much like pork and his meat was tough and dry. He wondered what the man's body fat percentage had been.

Gareth looked over Alex's family tree that had been written in Alex's typical all-capital spelling. He recognized that his brother's font matched that of the declarations he had painted on church walls. Alex had printed in capitals most of his life because he found it easier to write quickly and with more accuracy. Alex had multiple qualities that no one else in his family did, like dyslexia and dark, wavy hair. Two of several things he had inherited from his biological father, much to his distaste.

Gareth washed the grease from his hands in the sink before making his way back across the wet and humid courtyard and to the corridors that led him to his quarters.

As he opened the door to his room, he found Alex cradling Mary on the bench by his window in the same manner he had been before he left. Alex was saying something that actually had Mary smiling. Eager to hear what had cheered her up so much, Gareth moved over to the space on her other side.

"…John and Patricia with that old ugly as sin dog," Alex continued. "Remember when Pat tried to dry the dog with a hair dryer and it scared him so bad he pissed all over her? I didn't think I'd ever stop laughin'." He chuckled.

Hearing the names John and Patricia triggered Gareth's memory of his recent dream of the Thanksgiving dinner. The following day, Gareth had briefly tried to find some part of himself that was horrified by his nonchalant and comical reactions to some of the worst agonies he'd ever endured. Instead, he found that he didn't care enough to care that he didn't care. It was only a dream after all, and made no sense to dwell on something that for the most part was pleasant.

Gareth settled beside his mother. "Remember when John took us to the coast and made a very pregnant Pat sit in the car while he went looking for sand dollars?"

Mary sat up. "Oh my god, I'd never seen her so pissed. She was always so mellow. Like you, Alex."

Mary and Alex's faces suddenly froze as Gareth realized their fond recollections of the two had been replaced by the fresher memories of their deaths.

Briefly after the turn, Michael, Mary, Gareth, and Alex had driven to John and Patricia's house. A very distraught Patricia ran across the yard with her eight-month-old baby girl, Mira, in her arms who wailed uncontrollably. She stammered on about John having been bitten by a walker that used to be the sixteen-year-old girl who lived next door.

They followed Patricia inside to find a dead walker whose head had been smashed to mush by a hammer that lay beside its body. And John, lying on the living room sofa, clothes torn where the undead had bitten his stomach. The wound bled profusely as he faded in and out of consciousness. It was long enough after the virus hit to where Michael, Mary, Gareth, and Alex knew John was beyond saving even if they stopped the bleeding.

The baby was still screaming its head off, from what they figured was due to the stress of the situation. Yet Michael tended to John while Gareth and Mary attempted explaining to Patricia that her husband couldn't be saved, Alex spotted the bite on the back of the baby's shoulder. Patricia had been so overcome with panic over her husband and the attack that she had failed to notice her baby had been bitten by the walker before she killed it.

The sight of the bite was one of the worst, most agonizing and hopeless feelings Alex had ever had in his life, even to his present date. It was the first time Alex truly saw the color red.

_"P—Pat?"_ Alex's voice quaked.

She hadn't heard him at first, her focus being on Mary and Gareth trying to calm her down as the baby continued to wail. Alex then shook Patricia's shoulder and she turned her frantic face to his.

_"There's a... there's a…"_ He gave a weak gesture toward the baby's back.

Patricia turned the baby around to see the wound and screamed bloody murder. Everything that followed seemed like a jet engine-loud, messy blur that ended with three loud bangs.

Patricia had asked to take the pistol Mary carried so she could be the one to put down her husband and baby which Mary reluctantly agreed to. The four of them stood out of the way as Alex and Mary turned around. Meanwhile, Gareth and Michael performed the horrific task of watching to make sure Patricia would go through with it.

John had already become unconscious when Patricia fired into his skull at point-blank range. The baby she still held had begun quieting to various whimpers and whines despite the loudness of the gun. Patricia raised the weapon to Mira's head and after a minute of hesitation and violent shaking pulled the trigger.

_"It's done,"_ Patricia declared in a small, sheepish voice. Just as Alex and Mary had turned back around, Patricia raised the gun to her temple and fired. Her dead baby still in her arms, she slumped to the ground.

Coming back to the present, silence filled the room until Alex began to weep. "You think if we'd gotten there sooner…then they'd be here right now... at Terminus."

"If they'd even have survived the Siege," Mary said, shutting her eyes.

Alex wiped his wet eyes with the long-sleeved of his shirt. "They could've. I mean, I don't know about little Mira, but the two of 'em could've."

Gareth once more recalled his dream, thinking of Patricia spraying blood and brain matter on Alex's shirt whose biggest concern was his ruined clothes.

_Patricia and John at Terminus_, he contemplated.

He could see Patricia being much like Alex in her approach and views on the new world, and John's role would likely be much as Michael's was. The baby, Mira, was another question though.

They had decided in Terminus' official meeting on the subject of children that they would be butchered and eaten like any other if they had to. Others, like Gavin and Martin, remarked that even if the children's guardians accepted Terminus' way of life, that children were a large burden, especially the young ones. Gareth said the children of accepting guardians would have to be assessed to see if they would be an acceptable fit for Terminus before deciding what to do with them. If they were a bad fit, then like all others who were, then they were to be butchered. And assuming their guardians disagreed, they would be butchered as well.

Gareth was ready to have his own mother or brother carved and grilled if they ever had to, and figured strange children should be a breeze. Meat was meat after all.

Although, two former parents of Terminus took Gareth and the other's words about children being a burden with great offense. For the first time since the Siege, Gareth was attacked by one of his own people. It was a mere shove, but it caused considerable tension. A soft bruise had formed on his chest from the assault. He had been without a bruise since the occupation.

"I'm so sorry I brought 'em up, mom," Alex apologized. "I was writin' up a family tree in the kitchen and got to thinkin' of all those good times and nearly forgot the bad ones, I..."

Mary rubbed Alex's shoulder back and forth. "It's okay baby, I know you were just trying to help."

"That's what I always hated about walkers the most," Gareth spoke-up. "You can't make them pay for what they've done. They probably don't even feel pain. You can't really do anything about being pissed about the turn and walkers. It's just an act of nature, like a storm or an earthquake."

He knew once nature decides to take you out other, all you can do is everything you can to dodge its assault. Gareth always thought those of them who had made it that far and long have the same instincts the virus does. The virus cared nothing of who or what it caused pain, it was just doing what its intended purpose was: to live, evolve, and persevere. That's exactly what Gareth knew Terminus was doing as well.

"Well, the one chained-up makes a good punchin' bag," Alex said.

Earlier that day, Gareth had found Alex waving a slab of meat in front of the Occupier's walker. There was less of an amused smile on his face as the butchers had donned, and more of what Gareth could only describe as a power play. In the end, Alex took the meat and left. Mary had shuffled around it for a long while, watching it hiss and lumber around before she finally departed.

Alex shifted in his seat, meeting Gareth's eyes. "Now's probably a bad time to ask, but Gareth, what do you think about addin' more lists of names to the church? Of people we've lost to the turn before Terminus? Like, you could write down Chelsea's name."

He scratched his head. "I don't know, it's… I don't know if there's room. We'd have to find a place, a smaller place, and scribble them down. That seems in bad taste, honestly. And we'd have to go around asking everything to give the names of their dead relatives. It was hard enough making a list the first time."

Alex said nothing, but nodded

"It doesn't have to be in the church," Mary suggested. "What about the reception hall?"

Gareth squinted. "Yeah, that might work, actually. We could call a meeting on it tomorrow."

"Just ask whoever you see if they want to contribute to it. And if they don't, then fine. You don't need to call a meeting for every single thing, Gareth."

Gareth nodded, detecting a hint of a 'mom voice' in Mary's tone. "Yeah, I guess you're right. So is that why you were making the family tree, Alex?"

"That and I was bored." Alex's tears had stopped and he had begun to retain his composure.

"Why? Where's Theresa?" Mary asked.

"We're not joined at the hip," he answered.

Gareth smirked. "Could've fooled me."

Alex shook his head. "She's on night watch with Maddie, man."

Mary turned to Gareth. "You should give Martin a chance."

"What?" His ears rang. He assumed the subject of Theresa made Mary think of the romantic overtures of her sons, but he hadn't expected her to say _that_.

"Yeah, come on Gare," Alex teased. "Take him out huntin' quails, it'll be romantic."

"How do you even know about that?" Gareth worried it had become public knowledge.

"Because he didn't smile like that when _I_ felt him up at the gates."

"Yeah, not gonna happen. I don't want _that_ right now or maybe ever again."

Alex laughed. "Come on, just imagine Theresa and Martin havin' to be in-laws. I could see him at Thanksgivin' dinner at our old house pluckin' the turkey he shot and askin' Theresa to help. And he'd laugh his ass off when she says 'fuck no.'"

"Yeah well, Martin would just parade me around in front of his homophobic father trying to piss him off."

"And tell you to make sure you said everything was 'fabulous,'" Mary said just before all three of them cracked-up. "I wish it could be like this all the time."

"It's like this right now. Just focus on that," Gareth urged.

Gareth hadn't bonded with his family in a long time. He thought it had to have been before the Siege since they had laughed together. Even when he and Alex had habitually stayed in their mother's room when she had nightmares, they never conversed much. The task went more along the lines of 'get each other through another night' rather than 'make each other feel happy again.'

He had come close to forgetting that he inherited his wit and sarcasm from his mother. Sentences that came from nowhere that she knew would floor him such as 'you should give Martin a chance' did, were what Mary used to put him in his place—especially when he had one-upped Alex.

Gareth grew somewhat somber after Mary and Alex eventually left his room after having talked for a while longer. He thought of the way Alex looked at him like he used to, without apprehension or pause. It made him wonder if Alex was afraid of him. Mary, he knew, wasn't. She had stood by and watched him kill without showing one shred of fear at seeing what her son was capable of. He wondered if his father would be afraid of him had he have lived. Or if Chelsea, Patricia, or John would fear him.

He fell asleep wondering these things, but his dreams were untouched by them.

* * *

><p>In the map room the following morning, Gareth stood along with Theresa, Gavin, David, Albert, and Martin who had agreed to Alex's project. Gareth held a new daily planner book they retrieved on a run to jot down the names he received.<p>

"My sister Jasmine Lincoln, my dad, Gene, and mom, Karen," Theresa listed. "Cousin Andrew Mendez and his kids Andy and Bryan."

"Marion O'Connell," Martin said.

"Was that your sister?" Gareth asked. Martin nodded. "What about your other family?"

"Just put her on it."

"Oh, come on, man. You told me you had other family."

"My parents were assholes."

"So were mine and I put 'em on the list," Gavin interjected.

Martin sighed and crossed his arms. "Trisha and Don."

"Anyone else?" Gareth questioned, tapping the pen on the notebook.

"My best bro was named Larry Morrissey. He was an asshole too."

"O'Connell, how'd you end up Baptists?" David asked.

"Northern Ireland," Martin replied.

Gareth noted Martin's Irish surname as he had considered his heritage being that Martin's eyes looked unique to him. He wondered if Martin had a fleck of Asian blood in his lineage or if they just happened to look that way.

"Put Jaime Coleman, J-A-I-M-E," Theresa added. "He was my fiancée. We broke up before everything went down, so I assume he's dead." She shrugged.

"Albert?" Gareth inquired.

"My grandparents," Albert began, "Carolyn and Jacob Messner. And my aunt Isabelle West. And my uncles Brian Messner and Chase Metaxas."

"'Metaxas?' How do you spell that?"

"M-E-T-A-X-A-S."

"Greek, right?" Gareth asked. Albert nodded.

"Yeah, I can see that." He expected some sort of emotional response from Albert at listing the names, but he appeared very calm and smiled at his remark.

"So is that it?" he asked. The five of them nodded.

"Okay then. Go on your merry ways and clock back in." Gareth waved them off and continued to scribble away on his notepad.

Martin approached the leader as he continued writing. "So Albert seems less likely to try and break my nose today."

Martin had commented to Albert about him needing to get over his family, just as he had. In turn, Albert balled up his fist and clocked Martin in the face who shoved him back enough to make him stumble before the fight was broken up.

Gareth glanced up at him. "He'll be less and less likely to do it again if you don't say that kind of crap _again_."

"Eh, yeah, I guess I deserved it."

"I don't condone violence between any of my people, but yes, you did deserve it."

Martin laughed in return.

The thought of the man being assaulted made Gareth think about his previous group and the shiner he had arrived with. Gareth and Martin had wondered if that group would one day show up at Terminus. His mind wandered to the woman Martin made a pass at. What did he mean by "make a pass at?" Did he mean kissing, groping, or something he said? Was she into it and would she have slept with him if her brother hadn't found out?

"Gare?" Martin asked.

"What?"

"I said, you know it's poker night tonight?"

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "Well, I set it up so yeah. But I have something else to do, sorry."

Martin's face fell somewhat. "Oh, okay."

Irritated that he was still thinking about Martin's eyes, Gareth decided he would pay a visit to the walker in chains.

* * *

><p>It wasn't the first time he'd seen this walker, yet the sight of it filled him with a jolt of adrenaline.<p>

_That face_, Gareth exclaimed to himself.

The face of the one who had cackled, beaten, burned, raped, killed, and starved, now reduced to a rotting, snarling corpse.

Gareth held out his hand to just an inch away from the growling walker's as it reached out to take a swipe at him.

"Where were _you_?" he thought of his dream and how only the leader of the Occupiers had shown up.

"So, do you like your new room?" he teased as the walker began snarling louder.

"Shhh, no talking in the library." Gareth backed up a step and brought his arm back down to his side. He glanced to each entrance to ensure no one was coming before speaking again, "I see why Albert found this so therapeutic, I could talk to you all day. I don't feel like I can _really talk_ to anyone anymore. Not even my own mother or brother. Especially not my brother. Last night though, we did all talk and it was nice, like we were in the eye of a hurricane. Cynical, maybe, but no one's disproved my theory yet."

If only he could ask a walker questions and get actual answers, he wished. As in, if they ever became truly satisfied after eating a living person, even when they had had so much their bellies distended and burst. And if they felt hunger like he and his people did. Or if perhaps that's what they felt all the time and that's why they could be decomposed, dismembered, melted to the ground and still snap at their feet. Every part other than the primal need for nourishment had died and hunger drove their every action. Gareth felt he almost understood walkers.

"God, how pathetic is this, huh? I'm talking to a corpse."

The walker began snapping its teeth and jerking itself forward.

"Yeah, I'm hungry too."


	10. Atlanta: Part One

"Things have a habit of not goin' right back here when you go along on runs," Alex said as he watched Gareth load up a case of firecrackers into the back of a red station wagon.

"As long as they don't throw any parties, then they'll be fine. Mom knows what she's doing," Gareth said as he shut the rear hatch.

Gareth crossed his arms and leaned against the vehicle. "So, Theresa still wanted to go even after she found out Martin was going too?"

"She said she wants to watch him make eyes at you." Alex grinned cheekily.

"Ugh, I'm gonna have to file a complaint with H.R. if this keeps up." Gareth brought himself forward and patted Alex's shoulder as he passed him to meet Theresa and Kaylee who had arrived from inside the complex.

Gareth had developed an attraction to Martin, which he hated to admit. He was bitter that of all the people at Terminus, his desire had singled in on Martin. Gareth thought one of the new arrivals, Hayley, was cute. She had waist-length brown hair that she kept in a high ponytail, and a mole above her right eyebrow. He had conversed with her quite a bit, hoping some sort of attraction would occur, but none did. In fact, Gareth found her dull as a brick. Gareth even thought Gavin was okay-looking, but he bored him almost as much as Hayley did.

Gareth was unsure what he was going to do about his predicament. He figured Martin would be the kind of guy he could hook-up with once and he would never speak of it again. That appealed to Gareth, he knew he'd never find his against-all-odds post-apocalyptic love story like Alex and Theresa. And Alex had earlier informed him that most people thought that he and Martin were already fooling around.

_Well, why not just go ahead and make it true?_ Gareth had considered.

"You do nothing but perpetuate stereotypes about Asian drivers, Kaylee," Theresa said as she and Kaylee strolled over to meet Gareth and Alex.

_Kaylee's beautiful, why not her?_ Gareth thought.

"It's just my eyesight. No contacts anymore," Kaylee teased back as she lowered the duffel bag she carried around her shoulder and headed for the passenger's door.

_I like her pixie cut,_ Gareth thought fondly of Kaylee's messy, short hair. But he knew his appreciation of her appearance was purely aesthetic.

"Shotgun!" Martin appeared from behind the two women, raising a green backpack in the air as he passed in between them.

_Of course he'd want to sit next to me_, Gareth thought.

"Sorry Kaylee, you'll have to sit next to Ross and Rachel," Martin said as he pulled open the passenger's side door, tossed the backpack on the floor and proceeded to sit down.

_"'Ross and Rachel?'"_ Theresa mumbled and shook her head.

Kaylee sighed softly and moved over to the backseat behind Gareth, intending to allow Alex his desired place on the right.

The remaining four of them took their places in the vehicle, buckled-up and circled around to the exit as two people opened and closed the gates to allow their departure. Ever since Theresa and Cynthia's ordeal with Riley, Terminus had come to the decision that least four people would need to comprise the party for each run.

"Man, could you not put your seat back so far?" Alex complained while he struggled for leg room behind Martin.

"Ugh," Martin griped as he reluctantly turned the switch that elevated his seat.

Gareth had been slightly annoyed on Alex's behalf that Martin had brushed off Alex's attempts at befriending him after he joined. Alex was the sole reason Martin was given a chance in the first place and not turned into a long pig version of oxtail soup. Gareth added that to his mental list of things he found irritating about Martin.

After roughly thirty minutes of travel, which included Gareth's attempt to thoroughly explain to Kaylee what computer information science was, they neared their destination of a small assortment of stores near a suburban neighborhood on the edge of a small town.

"See, I suck at math. I'm not a total stereotype, like _Martin_," Kaylee said.

"What? How am I a stereotype?" Martin jerked his head around to Kaylee as she giggled at his reaction.

"Oh, the horde was right up here last time we were through." Kaylee turned serious as they cruised a stretch of rural road encased by woodlands.

Gareth slowed the car's speed slightly. "You said it was small, right?"

"Yeah, we can probably plow through them," she replied confidently.

As they advanced over a tall, debris-littered hill, they spotted a gang of at least fifty walkers both on and off the road, more than Kaylee had seen the first time.

"Oh, shit." Gareth exclaimed, bringing the wagon to a halt.

"That's too many to run down," Martin said.

"Set off some of the firecrackers south east and west of them? That's why we brought them," Theresa said.

"Alright, Martin, Kaylee, you go. Theresa, stand watch outside," Gareth commanded.

Gareth reversed the car back down to the bottom of the hill, out of the sight from the undead. Kaylee and Martin hopped out and retrieved two firecrackers each from the back and headed off in opposite directions into the woods. Theresa exited her middle seat and stood on lookout for possible walkers.

"Come on, come on," Gareth muttered as he tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

The sound of two firecrackers erupted from either side of them at nearly the same time, then once more a minute later from farther away.

After a few minutes, Kaylee arrived sprinting from the woods as she and Theresa returned to their original seats.

"Where the hell is Martin?" Gareth asked as he leaned over and peered out the passenger's side window.

"I'll go," Kaylee said grudgingly.

"Alex, you go too," Gareth said.

"What? Why?" Alex asked.

"Because we shouldn't have sent just one of them out there in the first place." Gareth regretted his snap decision.

Alex sighed and departed from the car with Kaylee, both headed to the western section of the woods.

Gareth didn't know for sure, but he had an inkling that Martin had yet again strayed from his orders. Martin followed commands well enough to be compatible with Terminus, but he was impulsive enough while executing said commands that he occasionally gave Gareth headaches.

The sudden sound of shot fired from the west caught Gareth and Theresa's ears.

_"Shit_,_"_ Gareth said through gritted teeth.

"Gareth, go. The walkers probably dispersed enough up there to get through. And they'll meet with us further up the road, they'll be able to hear us and they're armed," Theresa said.

Gareth bit his cheek, pulled the car out of park and accelerated up the hill. Most of the walkers had lumbered off toward the direction the firecrackers were ignited, creating what looked like half a triangle in the middle of the road. Gareth hit some of them, staining the front and hood of the car with blood and body spatter. He swerved to avoid as many of them as possible then stopped thirty yards past the horde and waited for Martin, Alex, and Kaylee to appear.

Before they could react, a black sedan skidded around the station wagon and sped off full throttle ahead.

"What the f-" Gareth began before he was cut off by the sound of Alex climbing into the back seat behind him.

"Go after them! They got Martin and Kaylee! Go, go, go!" Alex shouted and pounded his hand on the back of Gareth's seat. Gareth quickly pulled the car into gear and set off after them.

"What the hell happened!?" Theresa asked.

"I ran after Kaylee when she heard that shot and I found her tryin' to help Martin walk with a fuckin' snare around his leg. So I helped 'em get back to where we were parked, but you were gone. And then these people just pull up outta nowhere and try to grab us and push us in the car, but I hit this one guy in the nose and he let me go. But they got Martin and Kaylee and then they took off and it just happened so fast I don't..." Alex's words ran into each other.

Gareth slowed the wagon enough to hope the drivers in front of them wouldn't notice they were being followed. "Why would someone just take them?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't know, maybe they thought they were helping?"

"Well they have to stop eventually. How many did you see?" Gareth knew a long ordeal was in store for them. He assumed they we going to have to kill whichever strangers had abducted their people.

"At least two. A woman drivin' I think and a man in the back, the one I hit. They were dressed like cops."

"You think we're far enough away?" Theresa narrowed her eyes at the vehicle ahead.

"I hope so. I'd say aim for their tires, but since they have our precious cargo that might be a bad idea," Gareth said.

They continued to follow the black sedan, remaining as far away as possible without losing track of them, nearly stopping at some intervals to avoid detection. After many minutes of travel, they'd realized the vehicle's destination was much farther than they'd anticipated. People at Terminus would be expecting them back at about that time.

"You think we can still hear Camille's broadcast all the way out here?" Gareth said as he reached for the radio dial.

"Gareth, we're almost to _Atlanta_," Alex said, diverting Gareth's attention.

Theresa, who had been hunched forward attentively watching the vehicle they followed, fell back at the realization of where they were going. Atlanta was where she had lost her family to walkers. She knew their bodies would still be rotting in the city, rather they be turned or unturned. Alex, who she assumed sensed her apprehension, reached over with his right hand and placed it over Theresa's left which rested on her thigh.

She accepted his hand and entwined her fingers with his. Theresa loved Alex's gentle and affectionate nature despite not having much of one herself. Alex had always had the ability to shed light on people's softer sides and Theresa was no exception.

Theresa didn't feel the urge to do things like give the new guy at the gates a chance when they weren't considering new people yet, or place the locket that contained a photo of an unfamiliar child on a departed mother's grave, but she admired that Alex did. She thought it was more than commendable that doing what they do, he still retained a shake of compassion.

"Then apparently, we're going to Atlanta," Gareth said.

_Oh, fuck. This isn't gonna be fun_, Gareth thought.

"They're probably worried about us," Alex said as he released Theresa's hand and leaned forward to look at his brother.

Gareth glanced over his shoulder. "Then they'll have to be worried. We'll get Martin and Kaylee and go home and then they won't be worried anymore. It'll be okay, we'll get our people."

"Think we'll have to kill some kidnappers?" Theresa interjected.

"Probably," Gareth exhaled.

They cleared the woodlands and set sights on the dilapidated Atlanta city skyline. The former traffic jam of panicked people attempting to flee the city had become like a statue, frozen in time. The once frantic, rapid beating pulse of a civilization steeped in excess, now collected dust like a broken doll left in a pile of wreckage by a small child in the midst of a nuclear disaster.

It was hard to imagine the universe in which this city had existed, when people had time enough to construct something as outlandish and ridiculous as skyscrapers. When they bustled around without any idea or suspicion that a dead man may soon wake from his grave and seek to kill. When the act of eating another person was tucked away in whispered tales of the depravity of man, never thought to come to light.

Gareth wondered what such a world would be like before he remembered that he'd lived most of his life in it.

As they neared the end of the interstate into the city, they saw a hand slip out from the back left passenger's window of the black sedan and release a small, dark object.

"Oh no," Gareth mouthed. They'd finally been spotted.

The object sprang forward and rolled under the front left tire, puncturing a hole in it. The car lurched and screeched as they veered out of control. Gareth jammed his foot to the brake as they nearly plowed into a busted-out pick-up truck.

"You guys okay?" Gareth leaned around to the back seat. Alex and Theresa nodded.

"What the hell did they throw?" Theresa said.

"I think it was a hunk of metal," Gareth said, he honestly didn't care what it had been.

Gareth turned back around and rested his palms firmly on his knees, thinking of a plan. "We get our stuff, we head east, that's where we saw them go. That car had a cross on the back, that's not gonna be a coincidence. This city's not as big as it used to be."

Theresa wrapped Kaylee's duffel bag around her shoulder and stuffed as many extra supplies as she could into it. Alex affixed Martin's backpack and Gareth secured his satchel as well as slung his rife over his shoulder.

"It'll be sundown in about an hour," Alex commented after they'd begun their official journey east into the blackened former metropolis.

"Then we'll have to set-up somewhere," Gareth said, much to his distaste.

"That much of a drive, they knew what they were doing," Theresa said.

"They're experienced, so they'll be held up somewhere big," Gareth said.

Theresa rolled her eyes. "Wearing identifiable uniforms and driving an identifiable car is kinda stupid."

Gareth smirked. "Lucky for us."

Gareth and Theresa kept their eyes dead-ahead, trying to ignore the unsettling stillness of the tomb they waded through. Alex couldn't help glancing around, recalling when each building brimmed with bright, colorful life. Despair washed over him as the tall lifeless, buildings seemed less like offices and apartment complexes and more like enormous gravestones. He hoped he wouldn't need to speak anytime soon as he was afraid he wouldn't be able to form words.

"Horde," Gareth said, spotting a swarm of at least fifty walkers as they turned the corner of a ruined bar.

They instantly whirled around, hoping the walkers hadn't spotted before they did them. Both luckily and unluckily, the wide open spaces of large urban areas tend to draw many walkers to group en mass, rather than spread out and pepper the landscape like they often do rural settings.

"So, you think they're still alive?" Alex asked. The adrenaline that had coursed through him at the sight of the mob of walkers had perked him up enough to feel he could speak again.

"Yeah, I do actually. Unless they..." Gareth had always pondered the possibility of running into other cannibals.

Alex furrowed his brow. "Unless they?"

"Unless they're hunters," Gareth said. He didn't think they were, but the possibility both intrigued and worried him.

"Then why would they being playing dress-up as cops?" Theresa said.

"Like I said, they probably thought they were helpin' 'cause Martin had a snare wrapped around his leg and was slung around Kaylee." Alex stated.

"Or they were weak prey," Theresa remarked.

"Nah, they're not hunters," Gareth assured.

Gareth thought of Martin, who he hoped was being treated well by the do-gooders for the trap that had bitten into his leg. He envisioned Martin's future reaction to having been rescued by he, Alex and Theresa being somewhere along the lines of _'alright cool, let's go home.'_

_What an annoying, ungrateful, selfish, obnoxious redneck._ Gareth thought before he inevitably imagined what it would be like to sink into Martin's flesh for a night. Gareth wondered if Martin pleasured himself thinking of him, he assumed he did. The imagined image of which had unintentionally entered Gareth's mind the night before as he had lain nestled in his bed and stroked himself. The thought had brought him to climax sooner than he had intended while inadvertently staining his sheets.

"Yo, law dog mobile." Alex pointed at a wrecked deputy's vehicle surrounded by an assortment of unmoving corpses.

"That's been there too long, not one of theirs. But let's look in it anyway on the off chance there's a grenade launcher or blunderbuss in it." Gareth said. "No, wait. Those might be lurkers." He added as he held his hand up to halt Alex and Theresa.

Alex leaned down and picked up a brick that lay by his feet and tossed in into the crowd of bodies, hitting one of the dead in the shoulder. It flinched upon the impact and began to hiss, as then did several more around it.

Alex and Theresa unsheathed their blades and entered the field of walkers, all but playing hopscotch while trying to knife each one of them without error. Gareth took out his rifle and watched for any of them to attack unexpectedly. None did.

"Thanks for the help, man," Alex said sarcastically as he flicked the collected blood and brain matter from his blade.

"Someone had to stand back and watch for any rogue movement," Gareth said.

"No, you didn't, you just didn't _feel like_ doin' what _we_ did," Alex retorted.

"They're all dead, what the hell does it matter now?" Gareth snapped.

"Guys!" Theresa broke through. They both turned to her as she stood in front of the pile of dead walkers.

_"Really?"_ She shot them an annoyed and weary look. Gareth and Alex quieted and stepped over the corpses to search the deputy's vehicle.

"Waste of time," Theresa said as they found nothing of interest.

"It's gonna get dark soon, we should stop dilly-dallying and head inside somewhere," Gareth said. He still did not want to stop and waste a whole night, but they couldn't track these people in the dark.

The question then entered his mind of what were they going to eat. The backpack Alex carried contained only four nectarines, hardly a meal. They hadn't packed more because they had expected to be home for dinner.

"I know a place about three blocks from here where a friend of mine rented a small apartment. We could try there," Theresa suggested.

"Peachy," Gareth agreed.

The apartment complex Theresa had spoken of was small, but not overly run-down. They entered to find an array of walkers trudging around that they killed with their knives and then with their guns when they came too close for comfort.

Theresa led them up a flight of stairs to the third floor where her old friend's home was located. They noticed it appeared that someone had been living there not too long before, but not recently enough to expect they'd be getting company soon. They cleared every room as well as the residences next door, finding nothing of considerable interest and so far, nothing to eat.

The small apartment comprised of a kitchen that joined with what could just barely be considered an actual living room. The living room contained a medium-sized window that overlooked the desolate street below, while the bedroom had been ransacked and the twin mattress that remained had only grimy white sheets remaining.

"Who was this friend of yours?" Gareth asked Theresa as he stood by the window.

"I used the term 'friend' very loosely. She was more of an unfortunate acquaintance," Theresa replied as she made her way over to the residence's kitchen.

"Unfortunate how?" Alex asked from beside the counter.

"In a nutshell, she was a raging bitch and I was a raging bitch. The usual."

Gareth and Alex chuckled at her reply.

"Huzzah, I got baking soda," Theresa said sarcastically as she pulled a crinkled orange box from the kitchen cabinet and placed it on the counter below. "And rosemary." She tossed a plastic bag filled with the dried herb alongside the container.

"Whoa, jackpot," Alex said as he held up two gallons of water he'd retrieved from under the sink.

Theresa moved over to the stove and turned the knob, a fire erupted from the pilots. "We got fire."

"And vegetarian chili?" Alex made a disgusted face as he held out two unopened cans he'd found next to the water.

"It'll have to do," Gareth said as he stared out the living room window. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." He motioned for Alex and Theresa to come to the window. They spotted a middle-aged man in a police uniform shuffling around on the street below.

"We got a lead. And maybe a better dinner." Gareth smiled as his mood lifted.

"What do we do?" Alex asked.

"Well, I don't think I can open this window without-" Gareth tugged at the bottom of the fixture, it was apparent that it wouldn't open without a deal of force which he assumed would be too loud. "-making too much noise. We're gonna have to go down there, or one of us." Gareth turned to look at Theresa.

"Me?" Theresa said.

"Damsel in distress never fails," Gareth said with a cocky smile.

Alex became alarmed. "What? No, Tess, you don't have to go."

"I'll be fine, Alex," Theresa assured.

"Okay, take out your weapons, put on your best sad face and go down there and cry that you need help. _We_ could go down there and try and take him by force, but there could be more nearby and we'd have to lug him up a flight of stairs. Ask him where he came from, he'll be more likely to give information to a weeping girl in need. And try to get his attention well enough to where we can open that window and lock a gun on him just in case." Gareth said.

"Her weapons? Gareth, no!" Alex exclaimed.

"Alex, shut up," Gareth said while keeping his eyes on Theresa. Theresa turned her gaze to Alex and mouthed the words 'it's okay.'

"And-" Gareth glanced out the window and saw the man heading toward the entrance to the building across the street, "-hurry," He said as Theresa unsheathed her knife and gun and handed them to Gareth. She then turned and hurried out the door before Alex could protest again.

"She knows what she's doing," Gareth said.

"He's in there now, we can probably budge open the window." Alex ignored Gareth's reassurance.

Gareth and Alex pulled up on the window's edge with both hands until it screeched and nudged ajar just enough to slip the end of a gun through. Gareth took the rifle he'd leaned up against the wall beside the window and stuck the nozzle through the open space, positioning his eye over the scope.

"Let me do it," Alex said.

Gareth looked up. "Are you sure?"

Alex nodded. Gareth handed him the rifle and backed out of the way as Alex took his place.

"You remember how to reload in a pinch?" Gareth asked.

"I've touched a rifle before," Alex said, annoyed.

"Sorry." Gareth made the word sound more like a question that a apology.

"'Tess' huh? I thought she hated nicknames." Gareth changed the subject.

A small smile touched Alex's lips. "She likes it when _I_ call her Tess."

Theresa appeared on the street below as Alex tightened his grip of the rifle and stared down the scope to watch her more closely. She walked at a steady pace and disappeared into the building the policeman had entered before her.

"Speaking of nicknames, remember when you were five and you called me 'Gare-Bear?' You even named your teddy bear Gare-Bear. You copied everything I did, even the way I ate my cereal. Pink marshmallows first, then green, then blue." Gareth smiled fondly.

Alex bowed down his head and laughed a thoroughly unamused laugh. Gareth rarely put his foot in his mouth, but as soon as he'd finished his sentence, he knew he'd said the wrong thing.

Alex turned his vision to Gareth. "Is that what you think this is? I'm tryin' to be like my big brother by blowin' away whoever comes outta there?"

"Alex, I-"

"Couldn't be that I wanted to be the one to whack the guy if I gotta because I wanna do the boyfriend thing and protect Theresa."

"That's not what I meant."

Alex turned back and stared down the rifle's scope at the door to the neighboring building. "That's exactly what you meant."

"I thought we were past this, come on."

"Man, I was gettin' past it but I can't really do that now knowin' you're not. Just fuck you."

"God damnit Alex, don't do this now." Gareth raised his voice.

"Just shut the fuck the up."

"You're twenty-six years-old stop having tantrums like you did when you were fucking five!"

Alex raised his head and turned his body to face Gareth.

"You're supposed to be on watch, you said you wanted to 'do the boyfriend thing.'" Gareth yanked the rifle from Alex's hand and assumed his former position.

"You're a better shot, remember? I don't even know how to reload." Alex mocked ignorance and backed up several steps.

"Yeah, because you can't hold your fucking focus! I don't know why I ever ask you to do anything that requires any god damn concentration."

"Thank you so much for showing your true colors for _once_. God, you know I literally, from the bottom of my heart, fucking _hate you_ sometimes," Alex said through clenched teeth.

_Motherfucking ungrateful son of a bitch_, Gareth thought as he clutched the weapon so tight his fingers quaked from pain. He wanted to turn to Alex and hurl more insults at him, but he knew Alex's eyes would contain tears as he was an angry crier. Despite how Gareth wished he could shove Alex from the window, he didn't want to have to see tears that his words had caused his brother to shed. He swallowed his words, kept his eye on the scope and waited for Theresa and the policeman.

Theresa exited the building and Alex approached the window to get a better view as Gareth edged as far away from Alex as he could. Gareth focused his target on the policeman's head as Theresa led him to their apartment of current residence.

After Theresa had entered their building, Gareth turned and held the rifle at the door and Alex picked up Theresa's discarded handgun and held it at the door as well. They exchanged no words or glances.

After a minute or so of waiting, the door creaked opened as Theresa stepped in with a faux expression of distress.

"They're in here," she said before her face turned to smugness when she saw Alex and Gareth with their raised weapons.

The policeman froze as he entered behind Theresa. "What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed.

"I may have lied a little," Theresa said as she stood to the side of Gareth and Alex.

"Put your weapons on the floor," Gareth ordered. The man did nothing. "Do it!" he ordered again.

The man slowly reached for the sheathed handgun in his belt holster as Alex fixed his aim on the man's hand. The policeman lifted the gun out of the holster and placed it on the ground by his right foot.

"Kick it over," Gareth said.

He kicked the gun forward and it slid to beside Alex's left foot. The man put his hands up as Theresa moved over and frisked him. She pulled out a knife, pepper spray and a walky-talky. She popped the batteries out of walky-talky in case the man's corespondent phoned-in and the man shouted that he was in distress. She then set the items on the sofa, picked up the gun that rest by Alex's foot and aimed it at the man along with Alex and Gareth.

"What do you people want? Weapons? You already got 'em," The man said.

"What's your name?" Gareth said.

"What?"

"Your name."

"Geoff?"

"Spelled like 'Jeff' or 'gee-off?'" Gareth asked.

"W-what? The second one."

"Alright Gee-Off, kneel."

Geoff complied.

"I told Gee-Off that I had a kid and sister in here who'd been shot and he told me he was gonna take them to Grady Memorial hospital where he and some other people were set-up," Theresa explained.

"Grady Memorial, huh?" Gareth said.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "So you take people you think are hurt and take 'em there?"

"We take people who need helpin'."

Gareth turned and leaned his rifle below the window, then walked over and knelt in front of Geoff, meeting him at eye level. Alex repositioned himself to realign his aim as not to hit Gareth if he had to fire.

"Why?" Gareth asked.

"For the greater good."

"The _what?"_

Geoff glared at Gareth.

"You know, that actually sounds familiar. I used to believe in a 'greater good.' Now look at me."

"Well, sorry about your sad life," Geoff insulted.

Gareth breathed out a sardonic laugh. "You wouldn't by chance have taken in a guy with a snare around his leg and a youngish, Asian woman today would you?" He saw Geoff's eyes reflect inward, indicating to him that he had.

"So you have." Gareth nodded.

"I didn't say _anything!" _

"You must have come from Grady pretty recently because those two must be new arrivals."

Gareth looked over to Alex and gave him a small nod. Alex handed his gun to Theresa, then disappeared into the bedroom momentarily and reappeared with various computer cables and knelt down behind Geoff.

"Hands down," Alex ordered.

Geoff obeyed and brought his hands behind his back which Alex promptly pushed together and wrapped the cables around, twisting them into repeated and impossible knots. Alex then moved to stand by Theresa and re-accepted his weapon.

"So how are we gonna do this? We want our people back." Gareth shrugged.

"You won't get 'em back."

Gareth inhaled and exhaled deeply and looked down at the faded green and brown rug in the space between he and Geoff. "I really don't like people telling me what I will and won't be able to do. You're going to tell me how to get them back."

Theresa stepped forward. "Let's make him a bargaining chip."

Gareth made a contemplative face. "Hm, what do you say, Geoff?"

Geoff shook his head. "You got one of hers and she's got two of yours, not a fair trade."

"Then we'll get another one of hers."

"You guys ain't from here, I'm guessin' you three are all the people you have. You're obviously not livin' in this place. We have way more people than you." Geoff gained a degree of confidence at his own words.

"Geoff, all you have to do is break them out and you're off scot-free and we won't hurt you. In fact, we know a place that's much nicer than that depressing old hospital. You might like it."

"There's no breakin' people out of there without consequences. And like I'm gonna trust you to take me someplace nicer," Geoff scoffed.

"So no deal? Even if I pressed that knife of yours through your eye?"

"No deal, man." Geoff's stubbornness surprised Gareth.

Gareth knew they couldn't force Geoff to go back to the hospital and break Martin and Kaylee out. He knew it was a long shot anyway and even if he agreed; Geoff would likely disappear inside and never come back out again.

"Alright, fine. I have another idea then." Gareth stood up and retrieved the rifle from the window, sending a flash of fear across Geoff's face. Gareth stepped behind him, then swiftly hit him in the back of the head with the rear end of the weapon, causing Geoff to slump to the right and fall unconscious.

"You want me?" Theresa said. Gareth nodded as Theresa had shown excellent butchery skills the night they took back Terminus. Gareth would allow Alex to be the cook, they did have rosemary after all.

Alex moved to the kitchen area, as if he'd read Gareth's mind, and pulled out the large cooking pot he'd spotted under the sink along with the gallons of water and cans of chili. "I hate boiled meat," He muttered.

Theresa took the knife Geoff had been wielding from the sofa and knelt down, repositioning him so that he lay flat on his back.

"Alex, go get those sheets," Gareth said.

Alex retrieved the tarnished top bed sheet from the bedroom and placed it underneath Geoff's leg, wadding them up slightly below the place that was to be lacerated.

Gareth held Geoff's right leg still as Theresa made a light, straight line with her knife just below the knee and around the leg, indicating where to cut. The incision bled and ran down in several vertical uniform lines. She cut, chopped and sawed until the leg was amputated. Alex moved in and wrapped the sheet around the stump of Geoff's leg to stop the bleeding, keeping pressure on it. None of them uttered a word throughout the process.

* * *

><p>"The men just don't taste as good as the women do," Gareth said as he chewed on a piece of meat at the bar stool in front of the kitchen island.<p>

They'd boiled cut-off hunks of meat using nearly a gallon of the drinking water, seasoning it with rosemary and slight sprinkles of baking soda to salt it. Geoff had been moved, still unconscious, to the bathroom and shut in.

"No... they don't. I thought I was the only one who thought that." Theresa bit into her piece as she lounged next to Alex in one of the two wicker chairs by the window.

"Yeah, me too," Alex said with empty hands, he'd been the hungriest of the three.

"I was talking about it with Gavin the other day on the killing floor. He said they look spongier inside too." Gareth swallowed.

"Well... women have a higher body fat percentage for child-bearing, right? I mean, even that skinny girl last week was better than that dude that I don't know how stayed so fat in all this," Alex mused.

"That's a good theory, Alex. Can't believe I hadn't thought of that," Gareth said as he pointed his finger at his brother.

Despite the meat not being their preferred gender or been prepared using their preferred method, it tasted delectable and did more than fill their stomachs. The nectarines and chili could have sated their hunger, but not their appetite. It couldn't have satisfied the need for something tougher, something fattier, something fresher and something that was recently living. It wasn't like eating the best sirloin at a five-star steakhouse, it had become much more than that. It was like consuming the fuel for life itself. And the taste and rich texture of it so far away from Terminus made them feel like they now carried a piece of home with them.

"Think we should wake sleeping beauty?" Theresa questioned.

"Alex, go for it. You're done eating," Gareth said.

"What? No, talkin' to the meat's your thing."

"I'm busy, so is she. And you know the plan," Gareth said with a full mouth.

_You fucking asshole_, Alex thought. He knew Gareth was doing this to get back at him for earlier.

Alex hated talking to their meat after they'd discovered their fate. It wasn't just him, Cynthia had the same problem. She sputtered and felt intense discomfort, unsure of what she could possibly say to the doomed souls. The previous week, Alex had been sent to the killing floor just before three were to be bled out. One of the three people, a young red-headed man, had locked his eyes on Alex as he'd walked across the room.

_"How you doin'?"_ Alex had said as he'd given a polite nod to the utterly horrified and trembling man. Alex instantly regretted his words and was mortified that he'd just asked a man about to have his throat slit how he was doing.

Theresa flashed Alex a warm smile. "It's alright, Alex. You can do it."

Alex wiped his hands on a dish towel and trudged over to the bathroom, cursing out Gareth in his head. He opened the bathroom door to see Geoff's head nodding around. Alex squatted down and snapped his fingers in front of Geoff's face. Geoff began to come to, finally opening his eyes and resting them on Alex's face.

"What the hell..." Geoff said groggily.

"Really sorry about this." Alex tried to think of what to say next. He knew the pitch, the things Gareth would say, but he didn't want to say what Gareth would say. He wanted to say what he wanted to say.

"We had to... we took your leg. And if you do what we say, we won't take the other one." Alex focused on Geoff's rousing expression.

"You... _what?"_ Geoff looked down and saw bloody sheet wrapped around the stump of his right knee.

Geoff's eyes bugged out. "Oh.. oh my-"

"If you play along, your people are gonna think you got bit and we heroically amputated your leg to save your life. Then hopefully, they'll give us our people back," Alex said flatly.

Geoff looked over what remained of his limb and fidgeted his bound arms behind his back. "What? Wh-"

"Come on, just listen."

_"The fuck!?" _Geoff's voice rose to panic when he'd fully realized that the bottom half of his right leg was gone._  
><em>

"Man, if you just stay calm we can work through this." Alex raised his voice in attempt to be firm, but it quaked as he spoke the last words.

"Jesus fucking christ, man!" Geoff yelled.

"We got a problem, Geoff?" Gareth said as he stepped into the room. Alex felt relief as he stood up and stepped to the side, allowing Gareth to assume his previous position.

"Oh my god, get away from me!" Geoff cried.

"Geoff come on, screaming isn't going to get you anywhere. We're not gonna kill you, not if you don't make us," Gareth said sternly.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Geoff bellowed.

"What the hell, shut him up!" Theresa shouted as she burst into the room.

"Geoff, don't-" Gareth began before Alex stepped over and kicked Geoff in the side of his head, knocking him out again.

Gareth flung his gaze to his brother, eyes wide with anger. "Alex!"

"What? He wasn't gonna shut up." Alex turned and exited the bathroom.

"Theresa, go talk to Alex. I'll sit here with him." Gareth waved her off. He was very irritated at Alex for knocking him out and would have said so if Theresa hadn't been in the room. There was no way Gareth wanted to bring Theresa into he and Alex's quarrel. She was very protective of those she cared about and Gareth didn't feel like being called a 'cock-sucking motherfucker' again.

The first time being before the Siege when they had been on perimeter patrol outside the fence. Gareth had taken a break when a group of eleven walkers showed up that Theresa had to kill all on her own. Theresa had radioed in for Gareth during the attack, but he had turned his walky-talky off.

Gareth crossed his legs and sat by Geoff, waiting for him to wake again as Theresa and Alex stood by the door, occasionally whispering to one another.

"Hey, Geoff," Gareth said as Geoff finally woke. "You know, I've been unbelievably rude. I realized that I hadn't offered you anything to drink." He held up the plastic jug containing the remaining bit of water that hadn't been used to boil Geoff's leg.

"I don't give a fuck, man," Geoff slurred.

"That's not a nice way to talk to someone who could kill you at any moment." Gareth set down the carton and raised his eyebrows.

"Whatever, just kill me already. Ain't no way I'm lettin' you get your people back now."

Gareth squinted._ "'Now?'_ You said you weren't letting us get them before, either."

"What? I don't know, I..." Geoff squirmed slightly.

"Well, despite your wobbly story, we're gonna give you another chance, Geoff. We'll take you up there and say we took off your leg because you were bit and that you told us to bring you to Grady Memorial. And then you'll ask, no, _beg_ them to thank us nice people by giving us Martin and Kaylee back."

"Who?"

"Our people. The little Asian woman and the white guy in the hat? The ones that at first your mouth said no, no they weren't there, but you eyes said yes, yes they were."

Geoff scoffed, thoroughly unamused by Gareth's wry humor. "You don't get it, that's not how it works up there."

"Then how does it work?"

"Not like that, asshole."

"It's as good of a deal as you're gonna get, I suggest you take it."

"They won't believe you."

"Are you that bad an actor? The girl who led you here could give you pointers."

"I ain't no good without a leg, I can't serve anyone and or anything now. Fuckin' useless." Geoff looked down sadly at the stump of his limb.

"What if we took the other leg?"

Geoff was silent.

"So here it is: Alive, you help us, one leg. Or, alive, you help us, no legs. Or, you don't help us, dead, one leg."

"Just kill him." Theresa appeared in the doorway.

Gareth turned his head. "We have to give him a choice."

"You already did, even if he says yes, he won't live up to it. Or if he does, he'll tell all his buddies the truth and we got a target on our backs. We got the info we need, now end it."

Gareth knew Theresa was right. They couldn't get Martin and Kaylee back then drop him off and hope he wouldn't try and get his people to retaliate, even if he didn't know their names or where they came from. They could leave him there, but with no way to walk and a city full of walkers, Gareth thought that would be cruel. Especially since Geoff hadn't inflicted one single scratch on them. In fact, he thought he was coming to aid a woman's sister and child. And if they left him and he somehow got back to Grady Memorial, the risk still ran of he and his people retaliating. They could keep him alive to have fresh meat in the morning, but the nectarines and chili would suffice for the next day assuming they successfully rescued Martin and Kaylee.

The only logical option was to kill him, Gareth concluded.

"Well, unfortunately, she's right. And since you're gonna die, you should at least know our names. I'm Gareth, the guy who kicked you is named Alex and that's Theresa behind me."

Geoff closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears.

"So, how do you want this happen? Gunshot? Knife? Could kick you again and we'd do it afterwards. We'll make it as humane as possible, we always do," Gareth said.

"Let me do it." Alex passed by Theresa in the doorway as he clutched Geoff's knife in his hand.

"What?" Theresa said.

"Move, Gareth. I'll knock him out first, just like always," Alex proclaimed. Gareth didn't speak, but he stood up and backed out of the way. Alex stood in front of Geoff and looked down at his trembling jaw before kicking him the same place he had before, rendering him unconscious.

Alex leaned down and did what Gareth and Mary and Theresa and practically everyone else at Terminus said to do, not think. He drove the knife into the top center Geoff's head, feeling the cracking sound it made when it penetrated the skull and the soft _squish_ when it pushed through the brain. As he attempted to pull it out, he found it had gotten stuck. It reminded him of his first walker kill.

When he got the blade unstuck, he had to swallow roughly to prevent himself from once again mouthing the word 'sorry' as he did to the undead. This felt different to him than eating the people Gavin and David had killed and chopped up. It was reminiscent of the way he and many others had felt about eating animals that were killed at slaughterhouses before the turn.

_It's horrible, but I'm not the one doing it, I just want to eat._

"There, all done," Alex said before stuffing his emotions, turning and exiting the room, Theresa promptly followed.

"Alex?" Theresa said as she sped up her pace to block him. She circled around to step in front of him as he neared the window.

"Why did you want to do that?" she said.

"I didn't _want_ to," Alex said lowly. They heard Gareth exit the bathroom and enter the bedroom, no doubt to retrieve the twin bed's bottom sheet to wrap Geoff's body.

"Well, none of us _wanted_ to, but why did you volunteer?"

"'Cause I'm never the one that does the dirty jobs. Figured I should change that."

Theresa's face fell at the realization that Alex's state was probably Gareth-related. "Is this about Gareth? Did something happen while I was out there?"

"As usual," Alex replied.

Gareth's footsteps sounded as he made his way back into the bathroom with the dingy sheet.

"Well, you want me to kick his ass?" Theresa made no attempt to quiet her words as to slip under Gareth's hearing range.

Alex smiled softly at her. "As much as I'd love to see that, nah, it'll be alright. But no, I... I needed to do that. For me, not for him."

"Guys? Little help?" Gareth yelled.

Alex and Theresa reentered the bathroom and assisted in wrapping Geoff's body in the sheet. They then proceeded to lug him into the apartment next door and place him onto the middle of its dusty wooden floor.

"Tomorrow, we take him and burn him down there in the lobby where the fire won't catch," Alex said after they'd set the body down.

Gareth began to protest until he saw the look on Alex's face. The one that said 'I'm doing this whether you like it or not.' Gareth knew Alex was trying to continue their practice of burning the unusable parts of their meat. Even though the reason they incinerated the bodies at Terminus was proper disposal and this was not their home and they didn't need to worry about trash service. He supposed Alex saw it as some sort of twisted way to pay homage to them.

It had already passed dark, the building was warm enough to not need blankets, but cool enough to not be stuffy. The candles the previous resident had left behind had burned out shortly after they were lit, leaving the smell of sweet smoke to linger in the moonlit room.

They spoke more of their plan for the next day, travel to the hospital, asses it from the outside, and attempt to find a way in.

Alex sat on the sofa where Theresa had fallen asleep on her side with her head resting on a throw pillow that lay in his lap.

"You gonna stay like that all night?" Gareth sat across from them on the wicker chair furthest away.

"She'll move eventually," Alex replied.

"About earlier," Gareth began, knowing Alex wouldn't yell at him or leave being that Theresa was asleep in his lap, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed that you're still a five year-old kid trying to emulate his big brother. It's just, the other night when you and mom were in my room, I thought we'd connected again."

Alex remained silent with his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Alex, talk to me. You can't run away this time." Gareth leaned forward on his seat and rested his wrists on his knees.

"We did," Alex said as he began petting Theresa's hair, "it was 'cause of mom." He looked up to make eye contact with his brother.

"Because of mom?"

"Let's face it, Gareth. We were never best friends. It was havin' her and havin' dad that made us get along when we did. I mean come on, Tess leaves for ten minutes and look what happens."

"Like when they left us on our own for the first time and I was supposed to be in charge and you _hated_ that. The second they were gone we didn't have anyone to be a buffer between us."

"Yeah, you made a schedule for me because you thought it would 'help' but it just pissed me off."

"God, the story of the sibling over an under-achiever is so old it's almost boring."

"That's still how it is. One day I'll be gone and it'll be 'at least it was Alex and not Gareth who bit it."

Gareth felt a stab of anguish at Alex's words. "Alex, no."

"Man, don't try and pretend it won't be like that." Alex's voice began to rise as he ceased stroking Theresa's head and brought his arm to his side.

"I'll never let it be like that."

"Old you wouldn't, yeah. The guy who's in front of me right now, he would. You seemed to have gotten over dad pretty quick."

Gareth felt a nerve be struck. "Who says I'm over dad? I think about him _every day_. I visit the church _every day. _I look at the list of the names in the reception hall and I remember _every day_. Don't say I'm over it, we all have our jobs and mine requires a lot of public face. Dad knew that, he had a public face too. He-" Gareth was cut off.

"No, you need to shut up for once and listen to _me_. Did you know I'm afraid of you sometimes? No, actually, most times. We do the kinds of things that are the stuff of nightmares and we've been through hell and back. And it's not like I'm not the same as everyone there I mean, I eat it. And if me before all this saw me now, I'd be terrified of myself. I am a little, actually. But Gareth, _you..._" Alex's voice was high and his heart pounded in his chest.

"Go on." Gareth's voice was soft.

"I've felt a lot of things about you, but I never thought I'd be _afraid_ of you. Just bein' around you sometimes, it's like it's not you anymore. It's the same way you feel when meet a stranger. Like you just don't know what they're capable of and you tense up and you feel like you just wanna get away. I see you come back every now and then, like the other night. And I didn't feel afraid then, you were so... _you_. And that _you_ could be a dick to me but he was... Now most of the time you're just the guy who doesn't even look up when Gavin or David cut the throats of our meat. And the guy who talks to people like you did Geoff as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Can you tell me you wouldn't be afraid of someone you grew up with who you thought of as..." Alex's voice cracked on the last few words as he felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

"I have to be that guy, I don't have a choice. I know we do the kind of things that are the stuff of nightmares but we can't go back. We tried," Gareth said solemnly.

"I know we can't go back, that's why I wanted to see those first two girls we caught and killed. And why I wanted to be the one to take out Geoff. Because I have to be able to do these things and _I can_. I thought I'd proven that. You know, Theresa isn't like me. She doesn't have what you call a 'bleeding heart.' But she doesn't see it as something that needs fixin' because she knows when it boils down to it, I'll do whatever it takes to stay alive. I thought that's all you wanted, Gareth." Alex's throat had begun to ache from having spoken so much and for long.

"It _is_ what I want. That's why I try and push you." Gareth saw Theresa's eyes flutter open for a brief second, indicating she was awake. He assumed she'd probably been awake for most of their conversation.

"Push me, huh? Like some kid who can't ride their tricycle without someone pushin' 'em?" Alex's words became laced with offense.

"That's not what I meant."

"It's never 'what you meant', man." Alex shook his head and glanced out the moon-kissed window.

"So, how does this conversation end?" Gareth clasped his hands together.

"It ends when the world goes back to bein' the way it was. 'Cause nothing's gonna change. Nothing can. Maybe you can stop you snide-ass remarks but other than that, everything will stay the same. It has to. You said it yourself, we can't go back."

Gareth wished he could argue his brother's words, tell him he's going to try to make it up to him and repair their relationship. Gareth had previously believed the trouble with he and Alex in this world had been Alex. That Alex was only willing to do the bare minimum to survive and that he secretly judged and resented him for being the catalyst in the turn to cannibalism. He felt that Alex he didn't appreciate what he had done for him, their mother and for Terminus. But Gareth realized tonight that Alex wasn't entirely at fault, that he had every right to be afraid of the person he'd become.

"I should probably go to sleep," Gareth said after a considerable length of silence. "You sure you're both okay on the couch?" he said after he stood up.

"It's a lot softer than that mattress."

Gareth turned and proceeded to the bedroom where he lay down flat on the bare mattress without bothering to shed any of his clothes. He covered himself using a dark blue quilt they'd retrieved from a linen closet in the bathroom and laid his head on the flat pillow at the headboard. He didn't feel sleepy at all despite the grueling day he'd had, but he shut his eyes and forced himself to stay still.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Alex spooned Theresa from behind on the sofa while enmeshed in a baby blue top sheet they'd found alongside the darker blue quilt in the linen closet. They only wore their shirts and underwear as they had means to cover themselves with.<p>

"You think in some other life, this could've been our apartment?" Alex whispered.

"That my friend got us a good deal on when she moved out," Theresa replied as she stared at the wicker chair that Gareth had sat in when she overheard he and Alex's conversation. She hadn't mentioned that she'd been awake for most of it, wanting to spare Alex the headache of talking about it again.

"And there'd be a dog next door that always started barkin' at 2AM that we'd already made at least three complaints about." Alex stroked the back of Theresa's hand with his index finger.

"Nah, I think we'd have the dog that woke everyone up." Theresa smiled sweetly at the thought of some fairytale, boring life with Alex in the city. She imagined that people would probably talk about their relationship being that she was six years older than him. She knew her parents would say that he was too young for her and that she should be with someone who also worked in the accounting field. Theresa never thought she'd miss her mother and father's exasperating lectures, but she did now.

She turned over to look Alex in the eyes, her face not even an inch away from his.

Alex pressed his lips against hers softly and she leaned in to return the kiss, licking the part in his mouth. Alex placed his hand on the dip of her waist and nipped down her neck as she ran her hand up and down Alex's chest through the small amount of space that separated their bodies. Theresa realized once she'd begun kissing along his jaw that she could feel the pulse between her hips.

_Oh no. Not here_, she thought.

"Alex, _Gareth_," she whispered.

"We can be quiet, he's probably already asleep," Alex said into her ear.

"We don't have any-"

"There are other, un-Christian ways," he interrupted. Theresa giggled lightly.

Alex just wanted to forget about how much he hated Gareth at that moment and how much he wished he were home. He wanted to forget that he, Theresa and Gareth had to risk their lives the next day. And he wanted to pretend that this was his and Theresa's new apartment, and they were christening it by fooling around in every room.

Before they continued, Theresa reached down beside the couch and dug out a washcloth from the backpack, intending to use it to keep her dry when Alex came.

Alex climbed on top of her, pulling her into a deep kiss. He pushed her sleeve over and down as he then kissed and licked at her neck and shoulder. She reveled in the feeling of his warm, wet mouth and the scratch of his unshaven face on her skin. Theresa grinded her hips up against Alex's, feeling the growing hardness in his underwear as she did so. Alex trailed his right hand up her shirt and gripped her bare breast, rubbing and kneading it while moaning faintly onto the damp skin on her neck.

Alex brought his right hand back down and slipped it under the band of her underwear as she spread her legs just enough for him to fit his hand through. He massaged her clit as he switched from kissing her mouth to her neck and shoulder as well as massaging the inside of her right thigh with his free hand. Alex was a giving lover and always insisted Theresa get off first.

He pushed his index and middle finger inside of her and spread the wetness she'd produced upwards and inside her folds, then quickened his pace. Theresa did all she could to keep her sounds to low panting when she wanted nothing more to yell Alex's name.

Alex had spent so much time wanting her from afar ever since she'd arrived at Terminus with dark blue streaks in the ends of her hair that she had since cut off. He never thought she'd feel the same way until that fateful night in the church where it felt like his dreams had come true. And no matter how many times he'd kissed her and touched her and come inside her, he never took it for granted. Each time she allowed him to do these things again, he felt like he'd been given a gift.

Alex moaned into Theresa's mouth as he eagerly rocked his hips onto his own hand. He brought his left hand back up to rest on her arm and sucked a mark on her neck before she was brought to an intense clitoral orgasm, gripping the fabric of Alex's shirt in her hands so as not to moan too loud.

Alex took the washcloth and wiped the slippery liquid off his right hand before placing it on Theresa's stomach. He leaned down and let his mouth envelop hers, feeling a small smile form on her lips.

Still feeling dazed, Theresa pushed down Alex's boxers just enough to get easy access to his full erection and began jerking him off, spreading the pre-come from the tip down the shaft. Theresa kept her eyes open, watching what little she could see of Alex's face in the darkness, feeling as if she were aglow from having made him come apart with her touch.

Alex let out a whine when she tightened her grip, placing his hand to rest on her right breast and the other on her shoulder. He pulled his lips from hers and touched their foreheads together as she massaged the hair at the nape of his neck. He gently thrust into her hand, panting softly against her parted lips as she then sped up her movements. He was then brought to a hard climax that made him squeeze her breast and arm tightly and arch his hips further forward. Warmth spilled down Theresa's still moving hand and dripped down onto the washcloth.

Theresa wiped off her hand as well as Alex's cock with the cloth before Alex pulled up his underwear. Alex planted a series of gentle kisses on Theresa's lips as they beamed and giggled over their preceding activity, being as Gareth slept down the hall with an open door.

"What if Gareth wants to use this rag?" Theresa said.

"Just stick it in between the cushions," Alex replied.

Theresa took the damp cloth and stuffed it behind the cushion at the back of the sofa.

The two turned over to their former positions as Alex buried his face in Theresa's hair and grasped her hand with his. Neither of them really wanted to fall asleep despite their exhaustion from the day's events and their post-sex afterglow. They knew their fantasies never lasted and that the real world would come snarling back once again when they awoke.


	11. Atlanta: Part Two

Martin awoke to a dull throb in his right foot and ankle and the vague, blurry sight of a bright white room surrounding him. He blinked repeatedly in an attempt to clear his vision while his eyes stung from the glare of the illuminated window to his right.

"Hey, you're finally up." A familiar voice sounded from his left, tearing through his assessment of the room.

"What the f-" Martin slurred.

"You're okay, they cleaned you up and gave you something to sleep. They wanted me to talk to you first because I know you and I'd just entered my second year of medical school before all this." It then became clear to him that the voice belonged to Kaylee.

"Get me the-"

"I think we're sorta stuck here, Martin. But the worst part is they thought you were my boyfriend." Kaylee attempted a joke that flew straight over Martin's head.

_"Kaylee..." _Martin groaned as he attempted to sit up, but could only prop himself up with his elbows._  
><em>

Kaylee approached his bed and leaned in. "Martin, okay, listen to me. Act like you're okay with this, being here. They won't suspect anything's up," she whispered.

"Oh, good you're up. My name is Dr. Steven Edwards." A man's casual tone broke through Kaylee's awkward one. Martin's eyes rested on a man in a white doctor's coat. It was then he realized he was in a hospital room.

Martin locked his eyes on Kaylee as she stepped away to the foot of his bed. "Wait, where's... where's Gareth and-"

"Shhhhh!" Kaylee broke through, silencing him. Martin noticed Kaylee was wearing a pair of blue scrubs, further confusing him.

Edwards turned to Kaylee from Martin's bedside with furrowed brows, unsure why she had quieted his patient. "Well, you had an animal trap around your leg and it was in there pretty deep. We got it out and stitched it up, you're lucky we found you. We let you sleep through the night, figured it'd do you some good."

Martin looked the doctor up and down suspiciously. "My people could've fixed me up. Where the fuck am I?"

"Atlanta. You ever been?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh, I do love the difficult ones." Edwards sighed.

The door creaked open once more and a woman dressed in black entered and strode over to stand beside Edwards.

"Where are my clothes!?" Martin yelled as he looked down and saw that he wore a hospital gown.

"Good, he's up," the woman said.

"Did you strip me!?" Martin's eyes flew up to the two standing before him.

"What the... is this Halloween!?" Martin shouted as recognized the woman's black attire was a police uniform.

"You're welcome," the woman replied bitterly.

"Yeah, thanks for this, now when can I leave?" Martin was becoming thoroughly upset, a heat building in his chest. Being taken and transported to a strange location and being expected to play along? No, not gonna happen.

The policewoman shot Kaylee a harsh look. "Kaylee, you were supposed to tell him."

"I didn't have time," Kaylee replied.

"Well, alright. I'm Lieutenant Dawn Lerner."

"Good for you," Martin said as he finally pulled himself up, flinging the covers away, swinging his legs from the bed and resting his palms on its edge.

"Whoa, whoa, you don't want to tear your stitches," Edwards exclaimed.

"They're my stitches, I can tear 'em if I want to," Martin snapped as he looked over the cast on his ankle. He thought it was a bit much, that gauze would do just as well for his injury. That's what they would have done at Terminus.

"Okay, just wait a minute before you try and run a marathon. Now, you and Kaylee, who was very insistent that she was not your girlfriend, said you were on a run when you walked into a snare. How did you walk into a snare?"

"I saw a... a quail," Martin responded reluctantly as he continued to stare at his cast.

"Ugh, quail meat is atrocious." Edwards chuckled.

"Go get him some crutches, let him walk around," Dawn said to Edwards. Edwards nodded and proceeded to exit the room.

"Martin, we have a system here, it's what keeps us going and now you're a part of it. You and her were on your own and we saved you, healed you and now you owe us in return," Dawn said.

"I already got a home. I don't owe you nothin."

Kaylee grit her teeth. Martin was acting defiant, too defiant. She hoped they'd chalk it up to the pain in his leg.

Martin glanced over at Kaylee who looked at him with an urgent expression.

_The hell is she making that face for?_ Martin thought.

Kaylee locked eyes with Martin, shook her head, pointed at Dawn and gave a thumbs up.

_What? Does she actually want me to trust this chick?_ Martin was thoroughly confused by her gestures before remembering what she had whispered to him before the doctor had arrived.

_Oh, shit._ Martin scrambled for a way to backtrack on his disagreeable demeanor while remaining believable. He hoped they'd chalk up his initial anger to the pain in his leg.

"What am I even supposed to owe you then?" Martin attempted to smooth out his disposition.

"Yourself, your services. You help keep this place running and in turn you have a safe place to live. I can explain more to you once I show you around."

"And what if I don't?"

"There is no 'don't.'"

"Well, I can't do much with this... cast around my leg? It wasn't that bad, why not just wrap gauze?"

"I'm not the doctor. Edwards said the spikes went deep."

"Do I at least get a hot nurse to give me a sponge bath?" Martin beamed.

"I'll see what's taking the doctor so long." Dawn ignored Martin's joke and departed the room.

"Okay, good," Kaylee whispered.

"Why are we pretendin' to like it here?" Martin said.

"Because, Gareth, Alex and Theresa are coming. I don't want to make these people mad before then, who knows what they can do."

Martin scoffed. "You think they're comin' for us?"

"They were following us, don't you remember? On the interstate into the city, that guy threw a hunk of metal at them and it blew out their front tire."

"Then maybe they're dead."

"They're not dead, they didn't crash into anything. At most they got whiplash."

"Yeah, okay, maybe they are comin'."

"They _are_ coming for us," Kaylee proclaimed.

Edwards then strolled back into the room holding two aged metal crutches. "Alright Martin, since you're so insistent to get out of that lovely bed of yours, say hello to your new temporary legs."

"Can I have my clothes back?" Martin asked.

"They might want you to wear-"

"If you think I'm gonna wear scrubs I'm gonna take that crutch and shove it so far up your ass it comes out your mouth."

"Okay then, I guess you don't have to change into that right now. Your clothes are right there." Edwards leaned the crutches against the bed and pointed to the night stand by his side.

"Well, we'll give you some privacy." Edwards strolled over to Kaylee. "Why don't you join Martin in the cafeteria after he's been acquainted? His first meal is on the house since he's had an injury," he said as he proceeded to escort Kaylee out of the room.

_On the house?_

* * *

><p>"Talk to me about random stuff." Kaylee sat at across from Martin at a table in the cafeteria. Kaylee had earned her share of food earlier by mopping up a large amount of vomit in a patient's room, and therefore only had a glass of water before her.<p>

"Like this?" The only thing Martin spotted that didn't make him want to vomit was a bowl of corn flakes topped with powdered milk mixed with water and sugar along with a terrible cup of coffee. He'd only eaten half of the cereal before losing interest.

"No, literally. Ask me something. Not just pretend."

Martin was silent for a few seconds.

"So, are you Chinese or Japanese or..."

Kaylee clenched her teeth. "Vietnamese."

"Oh, okay."

"When I said random stuff, I didn't mean be a racist dick."

"What? I said Chinese or Japanese _or_... I know there's more than two."

Kaylee sighed loudly, crossing her arms. "Yeah, okay. I guess you did say the 'or' after, but I've had a lot of experiences with racist southerners. I sort of assume now."

"It's fuckin' stupid, especially anymore. Just white meat and dark meat." Martin took a sip of his stale coffee.

"That's funny, you come up with that yourself?" Kaylee was genuinely amused.

"Ha, nah I knew this one dude who ran into my group real early on. We took pity on him 'cause he had no hand, said some people left him shackled to a pipe on top a high rise here in Atlanta. He was out one day talkin' to my dad cussin' out this black guy in the group callin' him all sorts a nasty things. After a few days, I wasn't the least bit surprised some folks left him stranded somewhere."

Kaylee narrowed her eyes. "Then where did you get 'white meat and dark meat' from?"

Martin had a knack for long-winded story-telling. He could say he was going to tell you where he found the shirt he wore and instead go into detail about events leading up to and following the acquisition of the shirt that bore no relation to the initial subject in question.

"Oh, right yeah. Okay well he was talkin' to me about bein' left there by some cop, I wonder if it was any of these pricks." Martin continued, turning his head around the room. "Anyway, he was tellin' me about this guy and how he said there's only white meat and dark meat anymore and it's funny to me now 'cause he was talkin' about it bein' only white meat and dark meat to biters." He smirked.

_All meat is created equal_, Martin joked to himself.

"Funny how things turn out." Kaylee's tone turned serious.

"Yep." Martin said as he began to stand up, but was halted when a sharp bolt of pain crossed each puncture wound in his leg. He wondered how he was supposed to escape this place while wearing a cast and walking with crutches. He hoped Gareth, Alex and Theresa would assume that he wasn't exactly in the shape to be sprinting anytime soon before they planned a rescue. That is, if they were even coming.

Martin fell back into his seat with an involuntary whine of pain.

"Use your crutches," Kaylee said. Martin nodded while biting his tongue in an attempt to appear unphased.

Martin then spotted Dr. Edwards as he entered the cafeteria and suddenly had an idea. "Hey! Doc!" He shouted. Edwards scanned the room until he saw Martin waving him over. He then strolled across the room to their table.

"How are you feeling?" Edwards asked with hands resting in his coat pockets.

"This hurts like hell still," Martin said, nearly winking. Edwards seemed like a nice guy and Martin thought if acted pitiful enough, Edwards might supply him with a dose or two of pain killers.

"Well, it'll get better. We all know there's worse pain out there," Edwards replied.

_Damnit._

"Well, you enjoy your bounty." Edwards waved a polite goodbye and walked over to Dawn who had appeared by the place's entrance.

"You're trying to get painkillers? _Now?"_ Kaylee accused.

"What? No, just a small dose, or somethin' like aspirin," Martin bluffed.

"Then ask for two tabs of aspirin."

Martin couldn't help drawing a comparison between Kaylee and a small, buzzing, mosquito that he couldn't whack. Martin had always drawn likenesses of people to animals or insects, he didn't exactly know why, but he'd done it since childhood.

_At least it's not Theresa here with me, she'd have murdered me by now._ Martin thought of her as a velociraptor. Small, somewhat cute and could tear your flesh off.

_Glad it's not Alex, he'd just be here droning on about wanting to get back to Theresa and Mary._ Martin considered Alex to be a chinchilla. Soft, fragile and in need of protection.

He wished it were Gareth here with him, namely because he was the closest thing he had to a friend at Terminus. That and the fact that he was ridiculously attracted to the man, despite the fact he would most likely never reciprocate. But Gareth did a good job at starring in many of Martin's fantasies at night.

Martin considered Gareth to be a fox. Clever, cunning and an excellent trickster.

"Yo, trouble in paradise." Martin pointed to Dawn and few other officers who had gathered alongside she and Edwards. Martin and Kaylee craned their necks in an attempt to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

"-sent some people to where he was supposed to be and they found nothing. Radioed, we have cars patrolling everywhere nearby, but not one sign of him." One of the male officers said.

"Rotters?" Dawn asked.

"We looked for his body, there's none," the male officer replied. Dawn then trudged out of the room as the others followed.

"Well, lookie there, they're not pros after all," Martin laughed.

"This place creeps me out."

"You think they'll let me go back to sleep?" Martin turned his line of vision back to Kaylee. She rolled her eyes.

"Too bad if they don't like it, I'm goin' back to bed."

* * *

><p>Martin lay on his side on top of bed, just beginning to doze off, when Kaylee burst through the door.<p>

"We have to get out of here, now," she declared.

"Whoa, whoa, what? Why?" He jerked up and saw that Kaylee's face was red and her eyes filled with alarm.

"We just have to. This place is _not_ safe. Come on, we can make a rope from our clothes and go down the elevator shaft."

"The one full of biters? No, that's fucking moronic, what the hell happened?" Martin turned and pulled himself off the bed as Kaylee raced around the room, seemingly looking for something.

"You... one of them... Dawn's cops, I don't remember his name, he gave me this look. I know that look. I have to get out of here, now. You can stay I don't care," she stammered, pausing near the window.

Martin limped over to where she stood. "What? What cop, what look?"

Kaylee's face crumpled and tears welled-up in her eyes.

_Oh no oh no._ Martin hated being around crying people, especially crying women. His instinct was to get out of the room, he didn't know how to comfort this weeping girl he barely knew.

"Th-the people who took Terminus... that _look_ they gave me. I know it anywhere, we can't stay here. I might be sick." Tears streamed down Kaylee's face and she wiped them away with her sleeve.

Martin realized Kaylee had spotted a perv. "Oh, oh-okay. You wanna leave because some perv ogled you?"

"You weren't _there_. You don't _get it._"

No, he didn't. He wasn't there. He didn't get the friendship bracelet everyone else who had been there had. Okay, he figured he shouldn't brush off her suspicions about this guy, she would know after all.

"Okay, I believe you, sorry. But you can't go makin' jump decisions when you're stressed, that gets you killed. Come on, you know that."

"I know, I know, but I just can't stay here another minute. I can see how this place runs. It's not like Terminus, Dawn's not like Gareth." Kaylee's voice shook, as did her hands. Martin was worried she was about to have a panic attack.

_Yeah, Gareth's sorta the definition of honor amongst thieves, ain't he?_

"Alright, listen, you stay here and do whatever you gotta do and I'll go look around some more. I can talk to these assholes, I'm better at words than you."

"Way to kick me when I'm down."

"Just_ stay here_, okay?"

Kaylee nodded weakly and Martin grabbed his crutches, plodded out of his room and into the corridor. Despite his residence at a train station, he couldn't help but think how depressing the place was. It was apparent that Grady Memorial's residents didn't get enough sunlight considering the paleness of their skin and their agitated moods.

Martin knew he couldn't actually snoop while clicking around, he had said that to make Kaylee think he was taking some sort of action.

He heard a commotion two rooms down and decided to pass the time in watching something that may actually be slightly interesting. He moved over to the open door to see an elderly woman seizing on her bed as Dr. Edwards along with two nurses scrambled around her.

"Don't just watch! Get your ass in here!" A black nurse with a very thick Georgia accent yelled at him. Martin began to protest before he saw the woman glaring daggers at him. He sighed and made his way over as quickly as he could to the woman's bedside who continued to twitch and shake.

"What's wrong with her?" Martin asked. His question went unanswered.

"Hold this." Edwards handed Martin a small pink object he couldn't identify.

Martin couldn't imagine being an old person and having lived through so many years of the old world just to see it crumble in the small amount of time they had left. He recalled an eighty-one year old man and the words he spoke days before his sister Marion had killed him in her frenzy.

_"We marched and we protested and we fought and we died and we cheered and we cried and we believed everything we did would give us a better world for us and for our children. Now the earth's come along and decided we're as meaningless as dust. And all those things we did and all those things we're proud to call our own are being treated as if they're the real plague on this world." _

Martin wasn't one for sappy speeches, but the three words 'meaningless as dust' had stuck in his head ever since then. These people before him trying to save this woman's life obviously didn't believe they were as meaningless as dust and good for them, Martin thought. Stupid, naive, but whatever helps them sleep at night.

He didn't consider his view that he and everyone else were as meaningless as dust as some tragic conclusion reached by a broken man at the end of his rope, he saw it as clarity. As the truth behind the wall that the turn had finally revealed.

Martin had believed in god once, he had to. His parents had shoved it down his throat ever since they wet his infant head with holy water. He, like many people he'd known, would toss the religion away when they grew tired of it, then go stumbling back when they hit a bump in the road. He had tried when the virus first hit to do the same, but the cross-shaped band-aid that had helped heal the wounds from a lay-off and a divorce weren't big enough to cover the whole world. He finally concluded that god was either an asshole who wasn't worth bothering with, never existed, or had simply thrown up his hands and left the building.

The heart monitor flat-lined.

"Damnit. She was a kind old woman," Edwards said softly.

"She been here long?" Martin still held up the pink object, unsure where to place it.

"A few weeks, I didn't think she'd make it long and unfortunately, I was right."

"Thanks for holdin' that, you really contributed to the cause," the nurse that had called him into the room said sarcastically.

"Becky, we didn't even have anything for him to do. It was good for him to see this, sort of ease him in," Edwards said.

"Yeah, what he said," Martin said, attempting to lighten the nurse's tone. Becky plucked the pink object from Martin's hand, glared another few daggers at him before making her way out the door.

"Oh, we forgot to call time of death," the other nurse spoke.

"One forty-eight PM. That was two minutes ago," Martin said.

"One forty-eight," Edwards repeated.

"So, you gonna..." Martin began.

"Yeah, we gotta," Edwards said solemnly.

Martin shrugged. "I'll do it."

Edwards pulled a screw driver from his coat pocket and extended it to Martin who stepped over to the head of the bed and plunged the rusted end into the dead woman's forehead. The nurse turned her head during the act, a grimace on her face.

"You gotta be able to look," Martin said to her. She pursed her lips, refusing to turn her head back.

Edwards took the screwdriver from his hand. "That'll be all, Martin."

* * *

><p><em>"This world belongs to them now, to the kinda people that do this sorta thing just because they can. We should've know that, it should've been obvious that this would happen. It's our fault, man," Alex choked out.<br>_

_"No, it's **their** fault," Gareth said, but he couldn't help feeling that his brother was right.  
><em>

_Alex's jaw began to tremble and tears spilled from eyes. Gareth quickly pulled Alex into a tight embrace, letting him rest his head on his shoulder and sob. _

_The loud screech of the traincar door made them both flinch back. Despite how many times a day they heard it, it always sent the most sickening feelings of fear and dread through their veins. _

_The leader of the Occupiers appeared holding a woman from behind by her wrists, it was Theresa. He shoved her down onto Gareth and Alex, knocking them apart as he guffawed. _

_"She's all yours now, she's got some mouth on her. Y'all are damn morons for not havin' put it to use yourselves," He cackled as he slammed the door metal shut. _

_Theresa jumped back, still on her hands knees as she crawled back to the corner of the car, facing away from them. Alex stood up, taking the thermos with the last remaining sips of water in his hand that the Occupiers have given them. He moved over to Theresa, crouching down beside her while she rested in fetal position.  
><em>

_"Theresa? You want something to drink?" Alex not only offered her water for hydration, but because the leader's comment about her mouth made him think they'd done the same thing to her again. The day before, when they were moving him to a new traincar, he'd seen it. Seen what they were making her do. _

_Theresa didn't react._

_"It's here if you want it," Alex all but whimpered. He began to set the thermos down and move away, but he stayed, he needed to say something else. "I don't care what they say, it **is** gonna be alright. They're wrong. It'll all be okay." He fought back tears._

_Gareth nudged himself forward next to his brother. "He's right, it will be okay. I have an idea... I have one. It's not pretty but... I know what we can do." Gareth spoke in a steady voice.  
><em>

_"What?" Theresa squeaked out._

_"Well, tomorrow when they go out to hunt, I heard them talking about it, one of us can slip that knife. You know the one I mean."  
><em>

_"So? If we somehow kill them all, this place is ruined anyway, we'll starve and we'll have to run again. I'd rather be dead," Theresa said limply.  
><em>

_"No, no, no. Gare has it all figured out," Alex assured._

_"When we get out we can... Theresa, we can eat **them.**" Gareth nearly winced at his own words. The thought was as repulsive at is was appealing. Those men were disgusting savages. Eating them? It'd be like consuming a heap of garbage. But then again, meat is meat and his body ached and hurt from starvation. He'd eat a pile of sand if it could nourish him. Hell, he'd eat it even if it didn't.  
><em>

_"You mean? You really mean..." she said, shocked at first. Her eyes widening before she then felt the rumble in her stomach. And the thought, the possibility of food, meat and a full stomach, gave her the first bit of relief she'd felt in weeks. _

_"It's only fair. Then we can make them belong to **us**," Gareth said._

* * *

><p>Gareth reminisced of this exchange as the three of them transported Geoff's wrapped body to the boiler room in the basement of the apartment house. He thought of the way he had held his brother. Not because their mother or father was there and they'd been bonded by their presence, but because he genuinely wanted to feel Alex's warmth against him. Because he truly wanted to make Alex feel better, to let him know he's loved and that he was going to get him out of this. During that dark period, every squabble and long-standing issue with their family, and everyone else there, had disappeared. Even the most disagreeable and rough around the edges residents, like Wesley, had wept and buried his face on the shoulders of people he barely knew at the time.<p>

Gareth couldn't have imagined being able to experience even one ounce of contempt for his brother during that period, and he knew the same was true vice versa. It saddened Gareth to know that if he tried to hug Alex like that now, he'd be pushed away.

After they burned Geoff and gathered their supplies, which included the cans of vegetarian chili, they ventured outside to find that the weather had warmed considerably. It had become crystal clear and was no longer heavy and humid. It was a thoroughly dry warmth, the kind that would instantly evaporate the sticky sweat on your skin instead of leaving it clinging. They decided to walk to their destination, but to keep an eye out for a usable vehicle.

Theresa could feel the tension between Gareth and Alex as they traveled, it showed most in the fact that Gareth was much more quiet than usual.

"Oh my god!" Theresa suddenly screamed jovially, her face illuminating.

"What!?" Gareth reacted.

"The shirt on that body, it has Harley Quinn!" Theresa exclaimed.

She raced over and knelt down in front of the half-decayed female body that lay on face-up the sidewalk. She did so without worry due to the puncture mark on its head. The shirt was black and had a large and smiling full-body illustration of Harley Quinn that took up the right side of the garment.

"It's not even stained." Theresa smiled as she lifted up the corpse's arms and pulled the top off. Theresa was thrilled to find a shirt of the character being as she had been one of her favorites since childhood. Theresa had a tattoo of Harley Quinn on her lower back which the Occupiers had sliced into at various points, leaving scars across it hat disfigured the design.

Alex grinned as he stepped over to get a better look at it. "That'll look really good on you."

"I wouldn't put that on now," Gareth commented.

"Of course I'm not putting it on now, it reeks of corpse," Theresa said. Gareth thought her response was a little more venomous than it had to be.

Theresa stuffed the shirt in her duffel bag and they continued.

"Hey, ready for lunch yet?" Gareth said of the vegetarian chili.

"The thought of that crap makes me want to throw up," Theresa replied.

"Oh come on, it's not _that_ bad," Alex said.

"Holy shit, it's Chabot's. I _loved_ that place, I can't believe I forgot it was here." Theresa spotted the remains of a former median-price Italian and French restaurant on their left.

"You went there too?" Gareth said.

"Yeah, most of the time I lived here. You ever had their baked ziti?"

"Nah, the shrimp scampi was where it was at."

Alex shook his head. "Nope, it was that tiramisu."

A few simple old world dishes, like pork chops and applesauce, could be created with canned applesauce that hadn't yet gone bad. A few people at Terminus had even taken to occasionally making caramels with the powdered milk and creamer that they also fed to their meat awaiting butchering. But many things couldn't be properly prepared anymore.

There was certainly no shrimp anywhere in central Georgia, and Gareth doubted he'd ever eat any other fish again other than if he happened across a can of tuna.

Theresa's favorite baked ziti, however, could be substituted. They could bake it in the wood-burning oven they they use for cooking meals like meatloaf. Pasta stays good for a very long time and many cheeses like parmesan could be kept at room temperature. Powdered milk would suffice for the sauce and the lard they rendered from their meat would work as butter. But they hadn't found much pasta on runs in a while, and they had only a few of the dried cheeses left.

Alex's tiramisu would be impossible as it required eggs and mascarpone cheese.

Alex previously bore a terrible diet with a love for all things fried and dripping with fat. When he was seven, Mary had caught him dipping a slice of bread in a cup full of melted butter. She made him swear he'd never do it again and he promised he never would, all the while crossing his fingers behind his back. Gareth would sometimes sneak and let Alex melt the butter in the microwave, which Alex wasn't allowed to use, then keep watch as Alex dipped his white bread in the cup and ate his fill.

They supposed it would be ridiculous to complain of the loss of their favorite dishes, but despite their love of the human stuff, they did occasionally miss its alternatives.

The rest of the trip to Grady was uneventful, they ran into no more than a handful of walkers and discovered no suitable vehicle.

"And there's Neverland." Gareth said as he spotted the top of Grady Memorial Hospital.

"We should've kept Geoff as a hostage," Alex said.

"One for two, wouldn't have worked," Gareth said.

"There's more of 'em around here."

Gareth turned to face Alex. "And what? We got lucky finding Geoff. This city's big, it could take days to find another one of them."

Alex kept his eyes on the hospital. "Or we could've found one of 'em today. We don't know."

"Have you seen any cops since we've been out here?"

"Well, it ain't like they're gonna come right out and wave hello at us, we're armed."

Theresa let out an exasperated sigh. "Guys?"

Sweet, wonderful Alex who she loved so much and couldn't keep her hands off of the night before in a fit of passion or not, he was complicating things. And so was Gareth.

Gareth placed his left hand on his hip. "Okay, say these others are out there out of sight, they see us with one of theirs. How's that gonna go?"

"Will you shut up!?" Theresa shouted.

"Fine, what's your brilliant suggestion?" Gareth snapped as he turned to her. He'd nearly forgotten she was there.

"Don't talk to her like that," Alex shot at Gareth.

"Alex, _please,_" Theresa said wearily. "It's done. Geoff is dead. Let's move on. Please," she pleaded.

Gareth looked at Theresa then back to Alex. "Alright, you're right. We should know better than this." He nodded. Alex crossed his arms and scowled.

_We don't have to like each other, you don't even have to like me, we just have to respect each other. _Gareth recalled his own words both before and after the Siege.

"We walk up to the front door, keep our weapons in our holsters. They'll see that we're armed and capable, but not hostile," Gareth said.

"Okay," Theresa agreed for both her and Alex.

The hospital entryway lay debris-littered with an occasional body, but it was clear people had been traversing through quite frequently.

Stepping into the parking lot reminded Gareth that despite their strategy to appear non-threatening, that the three of them were very dangerous people. Terminus and its way or life, like Alex had said, were the stuff of nightmares, but classically bickering siblings along with a woman who squealed over a Harley Quinn shirt didn't quite fit the typical profile of 'people you avoid at all costs.'

Gareth knew he still donned the appearance of a young college kid with hands pink and soft from never being used on anything other than a keyboard. Alex didn't have any domineering qualities whatsoever, which compensated for looking a bit more gruff than Gareth. Theresa had a rough enough demeanor to come across as potentially threatening, but her cute haircut gave the impression of something more innocent. It was advantage. It helped people feel safer when they arrived at Terminus' gates and were thus less likely to feel as if they were sardines who'd just entered a tank of piranhas.

Although, if one was smart, they would know appearances mean nothing of character. Especially not in a world where the most harmless-looking people like Riley, had had to have become capable of much more. Everyone who's alive is both the victim of something as well as guilty of something. Except maybe the Occupiers, Gareth thought, the new world was custom-built for them.

They stopped just before the area that would allow the people inside a crystal clear view of them from the top floors of the facility. They stood still for several minutes in the beating sun, feeling its crisp waves of dry heat wash over them as they waited.

"The hell are you people?" A stocky, dark-haired man dressed in a black police uniform appeared from the front doors along with a woman in a similar uniform with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. They each raised a handgun at the three of them.

Gareth decided to skip the foreplay. "We saw two of our people abducted yesterday by a black car with a cross on the back and we followed it here to this shining metropolis. Then today, we noticed the same cross on some vehicles around this place. You wouldn't be responsible for our two people would you? A man and woman? The man had walked into a snare."

"Not your people now," the man replied.

The four words sent a flush of anger through Gareth's system. He swallowed it.

"Hey, hey wait I remember you," The man set his eyes on Alex to Gareth's left. "You gave me this purple bruise on my face yesterday!" he yelled.

"You just took two of my friends and tried to grab me, what was I supposed to do? Kiss you?" Alex retorted.

Gareth raised his left hand in front of him. "_Alex_."

"You have no business here, I suggest you leave before things get ugly," the policeman said.

"Dave, wait." The female officer chimed in. "Where you from?" she asked.

"Bibb county. We could've treated him, if that's why you took him here. We have more people, medicine and supplies. It's not a hospital bed but he would've been fine with our care."

"You were on a run?"

"Yeah."

"Where were you when all that happened?" Dave asked skeptically.

"The horde, you saw it, Dave. Our people, Martin and Kaylee, set off firecrackers in the woods to lure them away, it's a thing we do. Martin didn't show back up when he was supposed to, then he-" Gareth pointed his thumb at Alex. "-and Kaylee went to look for him. Then she and I-" Gareth gestured to Theresa by his left. "-drove through the horde and waited for them to find us, assuming that that they'd see us. After a little while, your car came racing past us. You must've seen us, it was a red wagon which you later tossed a piece of metal at on the interstate in." Gareth made sure not to add pepper to his last sentence.

"I didn't see the wagon when we got your people," Dave said.

_Liar_, Gareth thought.

"Don't matter though, they're ours now."

"Okay, I understand that, but they weren't on their own or helpless. You take people who need help?"

"You could say that," the policewoman answered.

"I think that's pretty damn admirable, but they already had a home and Kaylee wasn't even hurt. Look, no one has to get hurt. What always happens doesn't have to happen this time. Not today."

"It's not up to us," Dave said.

"Then who is it up to? Let us talk to them."

The woman lowered her weapon slightly and turned her head to Dave. "Let's talk to Dawn."

"Look, we'll even disarm ourselves." Gareth carefully reached back and took hold of the rifle in his holster and laid it on the ground behind him. The two officers kept careful aim on him as he did so.

_This is either the smartest or stupidest thing I've ever done._ Gareth thought tensely as his heart rate sped up.

"Guys?" Gareth encouraged Alex and Theresa to do the same.

Alex and Theresa looked to him with eyes full of shock. They were in utter disbelief of what he had done and that he was asking them to do the same.

"Do it," he commanded.

Alex crouched down slowly, unsheathing his handgun and knife and setting them down behind him while keeping a careful eye on the two police before him. Theresa reluctantly disarmed herself as well, also placing her gun and knife behind her.

_What the hell is he thinking!? _Alex screamed inside his head._  
><em>

Gareth raised his hands. "You can search us if you want."

The woman shook her head. "No, that's good." Both officers were clearly surprised by the three's actions.

Gareth brought his hands back down, letting his arms swing slightly by his side to appear casual and relaxed. "Bring who's in charge out here. You'll understand that we don't want to go in _there_."

"Okay." The female officer nodded.

"What?" Dave exclaimed.

"You watch them, they try anything, you take them out. I rank higher than you, remember?"

Alex was terrified, half-sure he, Gareth and Theresa were going to die. He thought of how their mother would never know what happened to them and that Terminus might fall into disarray, and that it would be all Gareth's fault. He did his best to try and steady his hands which shook from both fear and anger.

Theresa focused on breathing steadily, noticing that time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. She felt like they'd been standing there being glared at by Dave for at least thirty minutes, when it reality it had only been five. She did her best not to look over to Alex, not wanting to see the fear on his face.

Gareth could feel Alex and Theresa's sharp emotions emanating from them at his gesture of rolling over and showing their bellies. He felt like a utter moron doing it, but the woman appeared to have a sympathetic side. And showing that they were committed to a non-violent resolution was just the gesture that triggered her to get the boss.

The front doors opened, and the policewoman stepped out alongside another woman dressed in a similar uniform with dark hair pulled back tightly.

"You must head this place," Gareth said cordially.

"Yes, I'm Lieutenant Dawn Lerner." She didn't extend the same friendly tone.

"Well, I'm Gareth and that's Alex and Theresa. And, well, it seems we've had a misunderstanding. All we want are our people back, we didn't come here to mow you down and take them by force. We're asking." His voice tightened.

"How'd you find us, again?" Dawn asked suspiciously.

"Saw that cross on the car of the people who took Martin and Kaylee. Then saw an EMS vehicle that said Grady Memorial Hospital with a white cross and figured we'd give this place a shot." Gareth wasn't lying about this particular fact, they had seen a wrecked EMS with the white cross on their way there.

"Really? Because yesterday one of our men went missing just a few hours after we got your people here. We looked all over the area where he was supposed to have gone and he wasn't there, not even a body. Then you just happen to show up after having seen the same cross?" Her words grated on Gareth's ears. He knew she meant them to, trying to draw out an annoyed response from him.

Gareth shook his head. "I don't know anything about that." Gareth showed no tells, acting as if it were the truth.

"Where did you go last night after you got here? Must have slept somewhere." Dawn rested her hands on her hips.

_Haven't ever been questioned by a cop before._

"Shady's Bar. There weren't too many walkers inside."

Shady's Bar was located a ways away from the apartment housing they had actually stayed in, but it was near enough to have taken the same amount of time to have traveled from.

"I'm sorry, but what I see here is us giving you something while we lose something. What do we get out of this?"

Gareth contemplated the proposal. "We have fuel where we're from. Propane, gasoline, butane."

"We _have_ fuel."

Gareth mentally went through the list of things they could offer when his mind rested on the obvious; meat. "Meat. We have pigs and cows. I doubt you have any lean protein in there." He chuckled internally at the double-meaning of his last sentence.

"We have guinea pigs," Dave said flatly.

"Guinea pig? Really? Come on, you've gotta be itching for the real thing. That stick to your ribs, fatty goodness." Gareth suddenly felt he'd become a salesman.

"And we're supposed to believe that you'll come back with pigs and cows?" Dawn nearly rolled her eyes.

"Already butchered meat, we'll do it just for you. It'll keep for the ride over, it's not summer yet. You can keep Martin and Kaylee in the meantime to show that we're serious."

"How much meat?" Dawn asked.

"A hundred pounds?" About two people's worth if they just gave them the basics cuts off the body without the organs.

Dawn looked to the ground with a furrowed brow as she considered the offer. "How can you spare so much?" Her skepticism was replaced by genuine curiosity.

"Well, we don't just live off the pigs and cows. We have gardens. Don't worry, we can spare it," Gareth assured.

"Make it a hundred and fifty."

"Okay, I think we can manage. Now, you bring out our people."

"Alright, then I want one of them." Dawn looked back and forth at Alex and Theresa.

Gareth didn't expect such an odd request. "What? You already have Martin and Kaylee. I'm offering to let you keep them while we go fetch our part of the trade."

"I'll let them go back with you and in exchange I get to borrow... what are your names again?"

"Alex," Alex replied softly.

"Theresa," Theresa responded at the same octave.

"Alex or Theresa. Just one, that's not even an even trade. It's a good one, I suggest you take it."

"Why? What good would that do?"

"You're leaving here with more than you came with, I don't see how that's not a token of good faith. Unless, Alex and Theresa are more important to you."

_She fucking tricked me_, Gareth realized.

Rule one, never let new people know your relationship to anyone at Terminus or else they could use it against you. Dawn had tested him to see how defensive he might be over Alex and Theresa and in doing so, she figured out he had a special relationship with either one or both of them. And now she played it against him.

"Who are they to you? Brother and sister? Then you'll be more likely to come back for them. The others, maybe you'll realize the meat is worth more than them and take off and never come back."

_ Fucking bitch. I can't believe she tricked me._

Theresa stepped forward. "I'll go."

"What, no? I'll stay. I'll stay." Alex stepped forward as well and exchanged a jittery look with Theresa.

Theresa shook her head at him. "Alex, _no_."

"While you figure this out, we'll bring out one of yours, okay?" Dawn said.

"Why don't you pick?" Gareth said with a hint of a grimace.

"Because it doesn't matter to me," she replied. "Get the girl," she mumbled to Dave. Dave then turned and disappeared inside the building.

_Leave Alex, go back to Terminus and explain to mom that I used him to barter for Martin and Kaylee. Or, leave Theresa and have Alex in panic mode the whole way there and back again. He'd no doubt take it all out on me, especially considering earlier today and last night. _Gareth considered the pros and cons of either option and ended up leaning toward giving them Theresa. If he did that, he could return to Terminus with Alex and not have Mary continue to worry about him despite Alex's opinions.

"Why don't we just flip a coin?" Gareth said to Alex and Theresa. Dawn stood alongside her fellow policewoman and simply watched their dilemma unfold.

"Flip a coin? Really?" Alex said sourly.

"We might as well, you're not gonna resolve this by arguing 'yes me, no me, yes me' over and over again."

Theresa crossed her arms. "We don't _have_ a coin, genius."

"Maybe toss a can of the chili and see what end it lands on," Gareth half-joked.

Theresa exhaled loudly. "It'll most likely land on its side."

Dave reappeared sooner than expected with Kaylee by his side. Relief clearly overwhelmed her as her mouth grew into a wide grin at the sight of the three of them.

"Go," Dave said to her. Kaylee slowly made her way over to where her people stood, expecting a warm welcome, but detected something was amiss when they only gave her forced smiles.

"Now, which one?" Dawn asked.

Kaylee stopped several feet in front of Gareth and turned to Dawn. "What?"

"We're giving them you and Martin in exchange for meat from your camp or wherever you're set-up. In the meantime, we get to keep Alex or Theresa as insurance that you'll come back."

Kaylee's eyes grew wide as she scurried over to Theresa and whispered into her ear. "Let them take Alex," Kaylee said.

"Why?"

"There's a man in there, he forces himself on girls, I didn't actually see it but he gave me that look, you know what I mean. Don't go in there, let Alex."

Theresa knew what look she meant and she trusted that Kaylee's instincts were right. And she knew that the second Alex heard this, he'd be racing inside to prevent her from having to step foot in the place.

Kaylee then stood up high on her toes, being that she was only four-foot eleven, and up to Gareth's ear and repeated the information.

_Well, I guess that settles that then_, Gareth thought.

Kaylee moved over and whispered the knowledge once more to Alex before stepping to his left.

"It's gonna be Alex," Gareth declared.

"Yeah, it's me. You'll take me." Alex nodded assuredly.

_They take two of my people hostage, toss metal at as for having the audacity to follow them, request payment for their return, manipulate me into letting them borrow my brother for good measure and then make me have to go home to my mother without her other son? Hope they'll enjoy the human brisket they'll think is from a cow. _Gareth relished in the fact that Dawn would have a brief stint as a cannibal. That she and the others would be consuming the same brand of people they would probably abduct 'for the greater good.'

_Enjoy eating them, Dawn._

"What were you whispering about?" Dawn narrowed her eyes.

"None of your business," Kaylee sneered.

"Better not be. Dave, go get Martin. And tell him about what's happening first this time," Dawn said. Dave shook his head and reentered the hospital, clearly not happy about turning people over.

_He can have a fatty cut off a woman's thigh_, Gareth thought.

"It might be quicker if you meet him inside," Dawn said.

Gareth scoffed. "Yeah sorry, Dawn, but you know I have to stay at little bit distrusting."

Eventually, Martin appeared alongside Dave with two crutches and a puzzled expression.

"Go, Martin, Alex. Same time," Dawn ordered.

Martin and Alex walked across the open area, crossing one another while Alex ignored Martin's attempt to make eye contact.

"We'll even let you borrow one of our vehicles. Tank has enough to make it to Bibb county," Dawn said as Alex stood by her side with a distasteful look on his face.

"I'll bring it around," the blonde officer said as she walked in short quick steps past Gareth and his group and back out into the road.

"Come on, let's show him in," Dawn said.

Disregarding protocol, Theresa kissed the tip of her fingers then extended them at Alex and he smiled warmly at her gesture. Blowing a kiss would obviously reveal the nature of their relationship was romantic, but Theresa didn't care about Gareth's rules. She actually hoped her disobeying them _would_ bother him.

"Come on," Dave said as he patted Alex's shoulder, Theresa grit her teeth at Dave's action. The three turned and disappeared inside the building.

"I can't believe you made us drop our weapons," Theresa shot at Gareth.

"Trust, we had to build trust. And we did," Gareth said.

"They could've gunned us down right there!"

"I was aware of the risk, Theresa. But it's over now, it's done, like you said earlier. We'll get him back, okay? Even if it turns out we have to kill everyone in there."

Theresa chewed at the inside of her mouth.

"Givin' our kinda meat, huh? Some kinda ironic revenge?" Martin said with a half-smile.

"I think you meant to say 'thank you for going through all that trouble for me,'" Theresa said.

"I wasn't talkin' to you, princess."

"Shut. Up. Please." Gareth felt a headache coming on.

"Well, I'm staying here. Somewhere close by, where I'll be safe," Theresa declared.

"What? No. What if they think you we left you because we planned some sort of reprisal?"

"I'm not leaving him here, I know it's stupid and doesn't make any difference, but I'm not leaving him. Kaylee can stay with me if she wants, that way I won't be alone. They won't know I'm here, you can take me somewhere far off."

"Can't throw you in the car, can I?"

"Nope."

Gareth rubbed his temple. "I can't believe this."

"I'll stay with her," Kaylee agreed.

Finally, a white, mid-nineties model sedan rolled around to the front where the female officer stepped out of the driver's seat.

"She's all yours. And, for the record, I hate when we separate groups." She locked her eyes on Gareth's.

"I didn't get your name," Gareth said.

"Donovan. Chelsea Donovan."

_Chelsea._ The memory of Gareth's departed love raced through his head.

"Well, thank you, Chelsea Donovan, for bartering for us." Gareth meant it.

"My pleasure," Chelsea responded.

After the five retrieved their weapons from the ground and climbed into the car, taking their original places when the journey had began, Chelsea leaned down to the open driver's side window.

"I'm really looking forward to that meat, haven't any of the real stuff in forever."

Gareth decided he wouldn't enjoy the thought of her eating human flesh, she was kind to them after all. Maybe she was the facility's Alex. Chelsea waved them off as they exited the hospital parking lot and attempted to find someplace to drop Theresa and Kaylee off.

"How about Shady's Bar?" Theresa suggested.

"You don't even know what or who is in there," Gareth said.

"We'll find out then," Theresa said sternly.

"You ever been there?"

"When my girlfriends would drag me along. I hated sleazy bars."

"Unfair, some of my best memories are in sleazy bars," Martin interjected.

"Ew," Theresa muttered.

"Theresa, I really think Alex will be fine," Kaylee said.

"In the place where people still pretend to be cops, kidnap people and let a rapist help them out? Sounds lovely."

Kaylee rubbed Theresa's shoulder in comfort.

After Gareth had carefully navigated around the area where the horde of walkers was located, he stopped the car in front of the old watering hole.

"Still don't know why you wanna stay here. We're gonna stay out here until you say it's clear."

"No, go to Terminus. Hurry. We've already wasted enough time," Theresa said. Martin scoffed and shook his head.

"You have something to say, Martin?" Theresa said sharply.

"You won't wanna hear it, sister."

"Guys, go. Please." Gareth pressed his eyes shut.

Theresa and Kaylee departed the vehicle, weapons in hand along with the duffel bag that contained the cans of chili and stood outside the bar, waiting for the two to leave.

"God, Gareth seems stressed out," Kaylee said.

"Yeah well, I love the guy and all, but right now he can stuff Martin's dick up his ass," Theresa replied.

* * *

><p>"What are you gonna tell your mom?" Martin asked as he rested his injured leg on the dash.<p>

"That we're gonna take care of it," Gareth replied, glimpsing at the remaining view of the city of Atlanta in his rear-view mirror.

"So they chow down on our brand of specialty meat, huh? And they'll never have any idea it wasn't a pig." Martin broke out into a sardonic laughter.

Gareth hadn't intended to show much outwards satisfaction at the fact. He didn't feel any satisfaction when they fed newcomers at Terminus their meat, but the way the Dawn played him made him wish he could be there to see her sink her teeth into a human leg.

"Shame we won't be able to see it," Gareth said with a smirk.

"I knew that bitch for a day and I can tell you I'd kill to see her eatin' ribs off some guy we just put on the choppin' block. 'I wonder where they got the pigs?'" Martin mockingly imitated a female voice.

"Maybe one of their doctors will figure it out, that'd be bad for us though, unfortunately, hence we might grind up the organs. So, tell me about that place. I'm curious."

"Alright, so they said they had a 'system' where they take people they think need help, like yours truly, and patch 'em up and in return they owe 'em. And if you're 'strong enough' you get to stay and if not they, well I guess they either kill you or whip your ass into shape. So apparently, I would've had to have spent the rest of my mortal life sweepin' their floors and goin' about their pathetic delusions."

"What delusions?"

"They still think someone's comin' for 'em. To get 'em outta there. They think by actin' like the world's the same then it'll just," Martin slapped his hands together, "'bang!' go back to the way it was. At least that's what I gathered, it's kinda sad really."

"Oh, we all used to think that way. I'm sure even you did."

"Yeah well, I'm not stupid enough for it to have clung to me for so long. I thought people that stupid were dead already."

Despite their naivety, Gareth noted that they _were_ smart enough to be armed and suspicious of them. More suspicious than the Terminants had been of the Occupiers when they'd arrived just asking for a place to sleep.

"What Kaylee said about one of Dawn's men, you see anything else to back that up?"

"Nah, but she swore. Damn near had a panic attack."

Gareth figured either Dawn didn't know she had a rapist on her team, or knew and let it slide. That was one thing he could tell was very different about Grady as opposed to his establishment. At Terminus, they let no one abuse one another. Conflicts and squabbles like Albert knocking Martin in the face, were immediately brought to attention and resolved as best they could. Not everyone there loved everyone else, it would be impossible for them to, but they had to learn to respect one another just enough to live together. Gareth didn't see any of that at Grady, he saw fear and apprehension and he'd only just seen the outside.

Before the Siege, they had two residents, a husband and wife. The husband frequently battered his spouse and she always wore long sleeves even in the summer to cover her bruises. Back then, the most they did was have Michael and Gavin tell the man that that sort of thing 'wouldn't fly' there. Words. That's all they were. Both were killed in the Siege.

Nowadays, if the same situation arose, they'd butcher the man. The term sanctuary still applied to Terminus, for those who were willing accept not just cannibalism, but community and respect. It only made sense, people who were content with their home and situation would perform better. Although, Gareth felt the mutual rule of respect had faltered greatly during the trip. He thought maybe the walls of Terminus had a unifying power.

Most of the ride was uneventful as they spoke more of the hospital and of the plan if things went awry, that was until the vehicle slowed to a crawl a few miles from the where the horde that triggered their mess was.

"Oh, no, no, no. I thought we had enough," Gareth said of the empty tank.

"Bad mileage, these things are fuckin' horrible," Martin remarked.

"Well, there was a busted-out pick-up truck a few miles back down the road, that's all I can think of," Gareth said, realizing they'd have to walk four miles with Martin still using crutches.

"I don't think I really need these things, I was sorta puttin' on before at Grady, hoped the doc would give me some happy pills."

Gareth breathed out a laugh._ Typical Martin._

"Okay, lose them then. If you bleed through, then too bad."

"Deal."

A four-mile walk alone with Martin. Gareth wondered if there really was a god and he was doing this for his entertainment. Plus, it would be sundown soon and Gareth had a splitting headache from the stress, he hoped god was having a good laugh at him. He thought if god did exist, his first joke had been throwing him into the end of the world when one of his favorite genres of literature and media had been of post-apocalyptic worlds and scenarios.

"Bleeding through yet?" Gareth inquired as they hiked slower than he preferred.

"No." Martin acted as if it were an accusation.

Gareth had managed to bury his various feelings about Martin since they'd been reunited due to his focus on the task at hand. Despite the car ride alone with him, the humming of the engine had created enough noise to create a proper buffer. But under the dreary dusk sky with no background noise, he found the feelings creeping back.

He had an idea, an 'oh fuck it what the hell' idea. It was a little bit highschool-girl, but he was so tired from dealing with everything he figured he could allot some recreation in the mean time.

"Speaking of sleazy bars, Shady's was the first place I got so drunk I threw up," Gareth said.

Martin looked intrigued. "I can't imagine you drunk, man. No way. What it take like, one appletini to make you tell everyone that song was about you?" he laughed.

Gareth shook his head. "Nope, four rum and cokes. I have a high metabolism."

"You make it to the porcelain goddess in time?"

"Alright, let me backtrack. I was eighteen and I'd gotten a fake I.D. from a few of the less mathlete-esque types after we'd all graduated from school. So, we go in and eventually spread out and after four drinks I decided I wanted to have the traditional experience of hooking-up with a stranger. So I scanned the place, looking for someone who looked like they'd be into it and I chatted up this blonde guy whose name I of course forgot. After about twenty minutes of conversation that I _also_ forgot, I had my tongue in his mouth. But here's the best part, his mouth tasted like hot wings and it made me gag. So I pulled away and ran straight to the men's room and made it to a stall just in time to puke my guts out."

Gareth had just informed Martin that his proclivities weren't limited, something Martin hadn't known before. He eagerly awaited his reaction to the revelation.

"Heh, please, that's child's play." Martin forced out a chuckle, obviously trying to process the new information.

"So, bleeding yet?" Gareth teased as he smiled and crooked his head.

"No, I'm feelin' better."

_I should hope so._

"Well, did you at least get a sponge bath from a hot nurse in that place?"

_This is too fun._

"Nah, I requested it, but the lady of the law ignored me." Martin pouted.

"I see they let you shave though." Gareth caught Martin's gaze as he scanned over his face. Gareth was nearly giddy from playing his game and felt his headache receding.

_Come on, man, I'm throwing myself at you._

Martin stopped dead in his tracks and turned to Gareth who feigned a look of confusion at his actions. Gareth stood in front of Martin, observing the complacent tone on his features. Gareth expected his next move to be a kiss to the mouth, but instead Martin stepped forward and placed his right hand between his legs and began groping him through his slacks. Gareth felt triumphant as he let out an amused breath at Martin's act.

Martin then removed his baseball cap, tossing it to the ground and pulled Gareth into a deep kiss with his free arm wrapping around his waist. Gareth trailed his hands up and down Martin's back and breathed a soft sigh into his mouth. Martin continued rubbing Gareth through his clothes as Gareth felt waves of arousal wash over him as his cock twitched against Martin's hand. Gareth found a tender, chapped area on Martin's lower lip and nipped and bit at lightly with his front teeth.

Gareth then licked back and forth under Martin's tongue as Martin retreated slightly and began sucking on Gareth's bottom lip. The moving hand between Gareth's legs and the intensity of the other man's wet mouth was about to send him over the edge. If this continued for too much longer, Gareth knew he'd come in his pants and have to walk the rest of the way to the truck and drive back with the stuff sticking to him. The slovenly idea was very unpleasant to him. He decided to stop this from happening despite how much his body begged him to continue.

After Martin had been sucking on his lower lip for at least thirty seconds, Gareth pulled away and grasped Martin's right wrist to cease his fondling.

"What? What I do?" Martin said with a bewildered expression, saliva coating his lips.

Gareth released his grip on Martin's wrist which then fell to his side along with his left arm. "You're gonna have to _romance_ these clothes off me," he teased, still half-hard as he wiped off his mouth.

"What's wrong with just fucking me in the road?" Martin shrugged.

"Asphalt is painful, Martin. And we need to keep going." Gareth turned and resumed their course.

"Fine, the backseat of that truck?" Martin walked along side him, limping along faster than he had before.

"I said romantic, not white trash honeymoon." Gareth noticed Martin had left his hat on the ground, he decided not to remind him.

"What, you worried biters will see and they'll text all their friends?"

_Good._ Gareth saw Martin was frustrated by his teasing, but not angry.

_Control._ That's what Gareth prided himself on having and this situation was no different. Martin had attempted to get the upper hand during their dalliance, but Gareth took the reigns back. He felt the tightness in his groin loosen as he continued moving and thought of the still long trek ahead. He then thought of how his mother must be beside herself at the moment, fearing another night without her children.

_God, what would I do if mom and Alex disappeared one day without a trace?_

Carry on. He'd have to. There wasn't room anymore for anything else. The second you stop moving forward, you're moving backwards. You don't get the option to stay still anymore.


	12. Atlanta: Part Three

Dawn had given Alex the special privilege of being able to sit idly by and do absolutely nothing, something she never allowed anyone else to do. During the first part of his stay, Alex had overheard Dawn and her officers talking about Geoff, what could have happened, where to look for him next, and finally, how to replace him. As Alex rest in a chair in the facility's waiting area, he couldn't help but feel like he was in an interrogation room being as he was the one who had killed Geoff. While he listened to their futile words, he assumed Geoff's leg meat was probably at his small intestine by then.

Alex's eyes wearily trailed over the plain, white tiles in front of him as his elbow dug into his knee from the weight of his head which rest upon it.

"Hey uh, hi there." A young, male voice sounded from beside him.

Alex had been so enmeshed in thought that he had utterly failed to notice someone had approached him. "Huh? What?" He lifted his head up and to the left, setting his sights a young, slim black teenager standing stiffly in front of him.

"I heard they were making some sort of trade, hadn't ever seen that happen here. They actually let the other two go and are gonna let you go too?" the young man said with a look of disbelief.

Alex gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, lucky me."

"All for _meat_..." the kid shook his head.

Alex sluggishly nodded along, returning his eyes to the white tiles before him.

The teenager pulled out the chair to Alex's left, sat down and hunched forward, attempting to meet his attention. "Doctor Edwards said he wants to see if any patients improve from eating a good helping of farm fresh protein rather than beans from cans and well, guinea pig."

"I obviously did, I'm all muscle, see?" Alex said as he pinched the fat on his stomach with both hands. The kid chuckled.

"So, you got a name?"

Alex was taken aback in by the young man's interest in him. "Alex."

"Noah."

"Glad to meet you." Alex managed a half-smile.

"And I'm glad you get to leave this joint."

In that moment, it occurred to Alex that this person, Noah, would never know about him and what he does. He could converse with him or anyone else in the building and they'd never know that he had a piece of human leg passing through him at the moment. The word 'cannibal' would never be tagged to his name, he'd simply be known as Alex. Alex who was being used to barter a trade, nothing else. He'd never have to see the terrified look in Noah's eyes when it was revealed to him what he and Terminus was. He'd never have to exchange phony small talk about the weather while assuming Noah would probably end up on the same grill three feet away where his mother stood, cooking up the last guy or girl they'd butchered.

Noah would never be forced to choose to either join or be killed, he'd be able to walk away from Alex and sleep in his own bed that night. This was an experience Alex never received anymore and it spurred him on to keep talking.

Alex narrowed his eyes at Noah. "Is it that bad here?"

"I mean, I guess it's better than dodging rotters all day and eating snake jerky but, I'd rather be with... my family. Ah, I'm sorry, I'm over-sharing."

"No, no it's okay," Alex assured. A friend had once told him that his eyes had the ability to make people want to spill their sorrows.

"So, _you_ got any family left?"

_Of course he'd have to ask about family_, Alex sighed internally._  
><em>

"My brother and my mom. Brother's the one who negotiated all of this."

"God, you're lucky. Most people here don't have anyone left."

Alex breathed out a laugh. "Define 'lucky'"

Noah smiled and looked to his feet. "Technically, I'm lucky 'cause these people 'saved' me but, they took me from _my_ family."

"They split you up?"

"Yeah."

"Anyone come to barter for you?"

"Nope. I mean, I think they would've, but they probably think I'm long dead."

"God, my mom probably thinks I'm dead by now."

"But she'll see you again, that's what matters. I don't know if mine will ever seen me again." Noah appeared to be genuinely happy at the thought of Alex being reunited with Mary. Alex spotted a child-like enthusiasm in Noah's eyes, a flick of playfulness and energy that he hadn't seen in anyone's eyes since before the turn. He wondered how he maintained it.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, I am lucky." Alex smiled, this time it reached his eyes. "Hey, wanna Hershey's Kiss?" He reached his hand into his coat pocket, briefly wondering why didn't toss it in the duffel bag as it was too warm for a jacket, and pulled a piece of candy from an inner pocket.

"Whoa, I haven't seen a Hershey's Kiss in _forever!_" Noah exclaimed.

"I keep a stash of 'em at home. No one else knows about it except me and my girlfriend. Sorry it's kinda melty, I don't know why I'm wearin' this jacket still."

"Aw man, you have a girlfriend too," Noah said as he accepted the candy from Alex's hand.

Alex proceeded to take off his coat and began to tell Noah about Theresa, when a medium-sized notepad fell from one of the larger inner pockets onto the tiled floor by his feet.

"Ah shit, I forgot that was in there." Alex set his jacket on his lap and quickly leaned down to scoop up the notebook.

Noah stuffed the candy into his scrubs pocket. "What is that?"

"Oh, it's one of my sketchbook things, I don't know why the hell I brought it," Alex said as he lifted up the notebook.

"Can I see?"

Alex's eyes lit up at the request. "Really? You want to?"

"Yeah, I want to."

Alex set the book down on his lap and turned it to face Noah who leaned in to get a better look. "A lot of it isn't complete, I'm kinda bad and finishin' so..." He spread open the book to reveal pages that were comprised of very brightly colored, complex designs that ranged from a pop art style to muted and simplistic.

Noah narrowed his eyes. "It looks sorta like graffiti."

"Ha, yeah I always loved the style. I wanted to be a street artist when I was younger and I _was_ like... two and a half times, but I was too scared of gettin' caught." Alex gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"You were scared?" Noah chuckled.

"Hey man, I was the biggest wannabe ever. I didn't even have an emo phase, I just had a wannabe emo phase 'cause I couldn't pull it off a hundred percent. Yeah I, I used to wanna be a graphic artist but I..." Alex recalled college again, how he dropped out and how he still regretted it. He thought it was stupid to regret, being as it was now utterly meaningless in terms of survival.

_Or maybe that's just Gareth's grating voice in my head_, Alex had argued to himself.

"...but I sorta didn't do it. Oh, but I painted one of the walls in my room with this." Alex held out a design which featured geometrical shapes entwined with bright blues, reds, greens and oranges. "This isn't the complete thing, I completed it once I got it on the wall just usin' freestyle. I got my girlfriend to choose what one she wanted and we agreed to go with one that didn't have any Lukes, uh, Lukes are what I named these things here." Alex flipped the page, revealing an illustration with an assortment of small, oval, cartoon creatures with eyes and mouths shaped into various expressions.

"Because even though I love 'em, I didn't want 'em starin' at me when I woke up. Especially this one," he pointed at a green one with a sour face, "the green ones are the mean ones."

_Oh god oh no._ Alex suddenly realized he'd gone on talking for so long, that Noah hadn't been able to get a word in edge-wise.

_He doesn't care I painted my room, I'm so stupid, I'm-_

"Damn, I'd love to wake up with that green one staring at me." Noah grinned, his face was memorized. Alex had been so busy turning the pages of his sketchbook that he'd failed to see how excited Noah had become over his work.

Alex felt a thrill shoot through him. "Dude, really? This one will bite your face. At least, they will in your dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Yeah, once I dreamed one came to life and bit my cheek open." Alex laughed.

"Even so, I'd love it. Man, these are so fucking awesome, I can't remember the last time I saw something like this."

"You can have this one if you want." Alex tapped on the page.

"What? No, no that's yours, wouldn't you miss it?"

"Yeah, maybe a little, but if you honestly wouldn't mind this guy starin' at you when you wake up, then you deserve it. You can hide it if folks around here don't want you to have it."

Noah scratched the back of his neck. "Nah man, I couldn't..."

"Please, I insist." Alex took a hold of the page and tore it from the book. He extended the work to Noah who gripped the edges with both hands and looked it over again.

"Wow, thanks. I wonder if... I bet Doctor Edwards would like this," Noah said before he folded the paper twice and stuck it in his pocket along with the Hershey's Kiss.

"The same guy who wants to put the patients on Atkins?"

"Yeah, him. He has old paintings in his office, old Renaissance art. He likes to keep some sentimentality around and this would sure blow his mind."

"Well, five hundred years ago, those were fantastic, just totally amazin', ground-breakin' things. They got the same response from people that you did from my stuff, like it was the first drop of water they ever drank."

"'First drop of water they ever drank.' Yeah, yeah I like that."

"Ha, I'm not usually that eloquent. My brother was the one who used to write poetry, speakin' of drops of water. 'What does a raindrop...' wait what was it... 'what does a raindrop have against a flicker of fire?' And then something about the wind, naturally," Alex said as he broke out into laughter. The sentiment spread to Noah as well.

Alex recalled Gareth's old interest in poetry and prose. Despite always having leaned more toward the scientific side, Gareth had had a truly romantic and tender streak. That was one of the things about Gareth that scared Alex the most, the way he used words now compared to how he did before. The charm and persuasion he once used for things like getting his co-workers at a local coffee shop to form a union, he now used in the most sly and deliberate lies.

_He lies so easily_, Alex thought of Gareth's lie about not knowing anything about Geoff's disappearance and how he answered it so perfectly. Sternly enough to facilitate the confidence in his words, but twinged with a fleck of wonder, as if he'd just heard the news that Geoff was missing and probably dead for the first time. He had lied so well that Alex had almost believed it himself.

_The perfect, unbreakable mask of a perfect, unbreakable leader. Well, I don't know, I seem to be able to push his buttons enough to make him take off that mask of his_, Alex reflected._  
><em>

_'Thank you so much for showing your true colors for **once**.'_ Alex recalled his furious sentence. Gareth, despite his claim of disliking of passive-aggression and his belief that confrontation and honesty, when possible, were the best policies, had unknowingly shown much passive animosity toward Alex throughout his life.

_He's a hypocrite and he has no god damn idea._

"Cool man, I'll put this under my mattress, look at it when I need a drop of water." Noah gripped the paper in his pocket.

The inevitable and crushing realization finally crossed Alex's mind that the joy from being able to converse with this person and share something as personal as artwork with him, was he himself wearing a mask. He wasn't actually Alex the nice guy who just dropped in for a visit who has candy and likes to draw and has a family to go home to, that was a facade. He was a killer and a cannibal. And he had to admit, although he hated to, that he was glad they'd run across Geoff to eat instead of having to do with the cans of vegetarian chili. He didn't want to eat out of a scavenged can, the idea made him feel like he'd gone from having dinner at a five-star Parisian restaurant every night to fifty-cent tacos at a sidewalk kiosk. He felt insulted by the idea, like he'd risen above the others, including Noah. Eating guinea pig for god's sake.

Alex looked at Noah's relaxed and genial face and wondered if he had liked Geoff.

* * *

><p>"God, were people partying in here <em>after<em> all of this?" Theresa commented to herself as she cleared the main area of Shady's Bar which was littered with broken bottles, jars, as well as several used condoms. She contemplated whether or not to move the decayed corpse that sat on a stool, slumped over the bar.

"Should we move Mister Bones over here?" Theresa yelled for Kaylee who was searching the kitchen. "Hello?" she repeated. "Ugh," she sighed and trudged into the kitchen area, wondering what could've caught Kaylee's attention.

As she marched through the room, she caught the faint scent of rotted meat and vegetables that thankfully had began to decompose enough to not be overly offensive.

"Kaylee?" Theresa had become worried something was wrong before she turned a corner and saw Kaylee standing before the back exit, staring up at something. "What are you-" she began before she saw the three bodies hanging by nooses around their necks, tied to a banister above the room's exit.

The one in the middle appeared to be a grown man, while the two on either side of him were small, probably five to six year-old children. They looked to have been dead for a few months and all three possessed head wounds, indicating why they hadn't turned.

Theresa stepped forward to stand beside Kaylee and peered at her preoccupied face. "Don't look at that, come on."

When Kaylee didn't reply, she turned her vision back to the bodies and noticed the note tacked to the one in the middle:

_killed the kids_

_saved my ass_

_ate the wife_

Theresa stepped in front of Kaylee's line of vision. "Kaylee, don't look at that."

"'Ate the wife.' What do you think?" Kaylee locked her inquisitive eyes to Theresa's.

"I think someone had some problems. Come on, help me clear a place where we can rest." Theresa grabbed Kaylee's arm and Kaylee allowed herself to be guided back into the bar area.

"I think I figured out why you wanted to stay behind," Kaylee said as she kicked an assortment of bottles away from behind the bar.

Theresa stood on the side of the bar opposite Kaylee, pulled out the thermos of water from their duffel bag and took a swig. "Because I'm an idiot?"

"No, because the last time you left someone you loved, you love him, right?" Kaylee ceased moving trash from the floor and turned to Theresa.

"Of course." Theresa stuffed the thermos back in the bag and set it on the musty surface in front of her.

Kaylee stepped forward to where she stood directly across from Theresa. "The last time you left someone you loved here, they died. And you can't bare to leave someone here again."

Theresa exhaled and pursed her lips, giving away the answer 'yes' without having to speak it aloud.

Kaylee gave a bittersweet smile. "You're lucky, you know. People like us, who lost everyone we cared about in all this, usually don't find anyone else. In any way, a lover or a friend or just someone who will stay with you when you feel like you want to die." She rested her fingers on the bar's surface.

"Do you feel like dying?" Theresa asked, surprised by her words.

"You _don't_ ever?" Kaylee seemed equally as surprised.

"For a while, yeah, but no not anymore. Not really."

Kaylee nodded understandably. "Because Alex, right?"

"Well, yes and no. You can't just want to live because of someone else."

"Then for what?" Kaylee sounded thoroughly confused.

"I know this will sound stupid, but that's what Alex said when he told me. You can teach yourself to get excited about the smallest things. An earlier or later or sunset, or seeing a red cardinal because you love the color red, or wearing freshly-washed clothes that smell like laundry soap, or getting to sleep in, or just reading a really good book. You have to stop making happiness or contentment or whatever you call it, as something you're always chasing, just out of reach. You gotta stop seeing it as the things you know you'll never have. Like come on, we'll never have fifteen-foot high stone walls to keep walkers out, or a reliable food source that makes it so we can stop eating people. Or to not have to carry around guns everyday and worry that when someone leaves the compound they might never come back again. You have to accept that that's never going to happen and appreciate the little things like... like red cardinals."

Theresa thought Alex was probably one of the only people left alive who believed there were still beautiful things in the world.

Theresa had stared at the shelf half-full of toppled whiskey and wine bottles behind Kaylee for most of her speech, not noticing until she looked back that tears had welled in Kaylee's eyes.

"I can't do that Theresa, I'm not like you, or Alex or Gareth who... honestly I don't know what goes on his head. I mean I-" Kaylee turned and walked in short, quick steps around the bar to Theresa and yanked up the sleeve on her long-sleeved black shirt, "-do this." She extended her arm to reveal multiple straight-line cuts on her upper arm, obviously self-inflicted.

Theresa's face sank at the sight. "Oh... Kaylee..."

"And..." Kaylee unbuttoned and pulled down her medium-length, green shorts, revealing more cuts across her thighs. Covering them. Theresa could tell that many of them would scar her skin as they healed.

"How long have you done this?" Theresa's voice nearly fell to a whimper, truly crushed by the extent of Kaylee's distress.

Kaylee pushed her sleeve back down, pulled up her shorts, re-fastened them and crossed her arms. "Like... I used to do it... before all this. In med school when I was really stressed and owed a ton of money and was failing my classes. And I'd made myself stop until... everything here and a few days after we got out, I was putting ointment on a cut on my leg and somehow started pulling and picking at it until it bled."

"Why? What do you get out of this?"

"It's like you said, it's something small to get excited about. I feel better after I've done it."

"The next time you want to do this, you can come to me. If I'm with someone, I'll make up some excuse and come sit with you, okay?" Theresa extended the offer before she knew what she was doing, she didn't know Kaylee very well and seldom readily offered to engage her sympathies with anyone. She did feel they had a mutual understanding being that they'd lived through the Siege together while being female, but Theresa didn't even know Kaylee's last name or where she'd grown up.

"You can't come sit next to me and make it all better, Theresa. I'm not a toy that can be broken and repaired." Kaylee's voice was twinged with a small bit of offense.

"I know you're not, but you've stopped before, right?"

"There's no point in stopping _now_."

"But, you shouldn't have to... to do this."

"We shouldn't _have to_ do a lot of the things we do, but we_ do_ have to. It's never gonna get any better than this. So, you keep on cardinal-watching and I'll keep my razor blades." Kaylee's voice fell from high to soft during her sentence, appearing as if she regretted her harsh words.

_I guess this is the real Kaylee. I guess the one who giggles at her own jokes is a fake_, Theresa thought.

She saw it on Kaylee's face, the look that told her that she'd just stripped herself bare, down to the bone. Upon observing this, Theresa realized that Kaylee probably hadn't ever opened up to anyone about this before.

"Am I the first one you've told?"

Kaylee nodded.

_Who else is a fake?_ Theresa wondered.

The only person she could say for sure she knew was Alex.

_Maybe Gareth isn't actually an arrogant fucking asshole, maybe that's a facade. Christ, maybe even Martin has a facade._

Kaylee looked down at her tightly crossed arms. "Kinda funny, when I end up on the butcher's table, I'll already be partially cut up."

_She doesn't plan on living._

"You _plan_ on paying a visit to the chopping block?"

Kaylee brought her glassy, dismayed eyes up to Theresa's. "Not the way Priscilla did, if that's what you're thinking."

"But you assume you'll be there one day?"

"I'm guessing you don't?"

"It's a possibility and I've accepted it, but I haven't set it as a certain part of my future."

"Well, then good for you," Kaylee said as she uncrossed her arms, turned and walked over to the decayed corpse slumped over the bar.

"Gonna help me move Mister Bones?" Kaylee said flatly.

Theresa didn't know what else she could say. It would be an outright lie to tell Kaylee that she'd never end up on the Terminus dinner table and that she'll live a long, fruitful life, because that had a definite probability of not being true.

She decided to end the conversation on the subject and help Kaylee move the body.

* * *

><p>"Looks like someone parked this thing to go take a leak and got their ass chewed on," Martin said as he searched the glove compartment. The white truck Gareth and Martin had ventured to was littered and tattered, but luckily the keys were still in the ignition.<p>

"Or maybe he spotted a pheasant as he was driving, stopped the truck, then stepped in a snare when he went after it," Gareth remarked.

"Ha, ha, ha," Martin sarcastically imitated laughter.

Martin had acted as if nothing had happened between them after he finished naming possible places and times when and where he and Gareth could have sex. After Gareth had mentioned that the sun was almost down, the subject promptly switched to business.

"Okay, put all your hopes and dreams into this," Gareth said as he rested in the driver's seat and turned the ignition. It started, then sputtered and died.

"Hang on, my buddy Larry used to have a truck just like this. Turn it again, I know what to do." Martin said as he leaned over and held his right hand up in a fist. Gareth turned the key again and Martin proceeded to pound on the dash. After a few tries, it finally caught and the engine roared.

Gareth felt relief wash over him. "Thank god."

"Every time," Martin proclaimed proudly.

Gareth pulled on his seat belt, put his foot on the accelerate pedal as the truck groaned and rolled forward. "This should be enough to get us there." He said as he analyzed the gas gauge.

"What do we do about the Grady folks's car?"

"Tow it back. I don't want to risk them getting mad at us for not returning their precious, crossed-marked piece of shit."

Gareth worried Martin would do something rash like reach over and grope between his legs again as he drove, but by the weary tone Martin had begun to wear on his face, he could tell he was ready to get home.

_Home._ Gareth wondered if Martin actually thought of Terminus as his home, or just a means to stay alive a little longer.

As they neared Terminus' gates, Gareth felt a sense of dread come over him, he didn't want to have to explain the situation to Mary. Or to anyone, really.

They rode up and parked about a hundred feet from the exit, intending to give the people on watch a good look at them before they tried to enter. As Gareth and Martin departed the truck and reached the gates, Maddie and Wilson proceeded to open them for the two.

"Holy shit, man! What the fuck happened!? We looked everywhere for you!" Wilson exclaimed.

"Hang on, Wilson, just wait and let us get everyone and-"

"Oh my god, Gareth!" Mary shouted, running across the opening to her son, arms outstretched.

"Wait, mom, before you-" Gareth was cut off by his mother's tight embrace and dry sobs against his shoulder.

"Mom, I need to tell-"

Mary pulled back, her euphoria falling as she realized the only person who had arrived with him was Martin. "W-where is-" Her eyes widened with fear.

Gareth gripped his mother by the shoulders and knelt down slightly to maintain proper eye contact. "He's okay, Alex is alive. So are Theresa and Kaylee. They're in Atlanta, we're gonna get them back, we made a deal. They'll be fine." He declared as confidently as he could.

"You what?" Albert's voice broke through from beside him. Gareth noticed what seemed to be half of Terminus had gathered around him. He decided to tell those who were there already the entire story as well as inform them they would need to butcher two or three extra people for the deal.

After Gareth had explained the situation, Mary stepped forward and slapped him across the face, jerking his head to the side as her unclipped nails scraped against his cheek. The sharp smacking sound echoed across the open area, making a few people in the vicinity flinch at her unexpected action, including even Martin.

Gareth was in shock, his mother had never struck him before, ever. He was confused, he told her the reason why he let them have Alex instead of Theresa and he thought she'd understand.

Gareth managed to calmly turn his head back to his mother's angered face. "We're going to get him back," He said to her, his cheek still stinging from the strike.

"You should've let them take Theresa, or just killed the bastards," Mary shouted, her eyes aflame.

"You weren't there, there were too many of them. And what Kaylee said she saw-"

"No, what she _felt_, not what she _saw_. I can't believe you negotiated with these people."

Martin stepped forward. "Mary, you didn't see this place, they would've dropped us like flies. And Kaylee, I saw her, she was about have a panic attack."

"Oh shut the fuck up, Martin," Mary snapped. Martin nodded slowly and stepped back.

"You left three of our own in Atlanta, man," Wesley spoke up.

Gareth felt a rage bubbling up from underneath his skin. They didn't know what happened. And they didn't appreciate the fact that he'd gone to such great lengths for two people who may be bitten by a walker the very next day for all they knew.

_Ungrateful fucks._

"You're just gonna give our meat away? We don't have an unlimited supply. How do we butcher it to look non-human? We don't know how to do that," Gavin said, crossing his arms and frowning.

Gareth swallowed roughly.

"You don't even know Alex is safe there," Maddie said.

"You shouldn't have let Theresa and Kaylee stay behind, I would've gagged them and thrown them in the car," Camille said.

Gareth took a deep breath and attempted to speak normally. "Three people, out of _A_. You'll do it now, Gavin, David." He swung his eyes between the two.

"I don't butcher for strangers," Gavin said.

"You butcher for strangers every day,_ new arrivals?"_ Gareth couldn't prevent his voice from becoming twined with anger.

"Nah, man, sorry but I'm gonna sit this one out. Why don't you do it? Get your hands dirty."

A violent impulse struck Gareth, he wanted to take the end of his rifle and bludgeon Gavin in the face with it. It was the same white hot, violent impulse that came over him after he'd broken out of the traincar and killed the first Occupier he came across. The same one that enveloped him when Price had joked about raping Mary. Although, this was different, this impulse was toward one of his own people and one of the cardinal rules of Terminus is to not abuse each other. Gareth felt that rule applied to him more than anyone, so he proceeded to bite at his tongue in an effort to ground himself. He dug his teeth in so hard it made him want to let out a whine at the sharp pain it caused, but it distracted him from his violent desires.

"I'll do it. Fucked-up leg or not, let Mitch sleep." Martin shrugged.

"Go for it, man." Gavin turned and walked back up to the building. Several more people followed as others trekked over to area the traincars resided.

"Yeah, let's get this over with." Martin began to limp over to the corral as Gareth followed.

"You sure, man? It's not an easy job, it's not like-" Gareth began.

Martin snickered. "Please, whatever squeamishness I had went the way of the world. Oh, and is this a romantic gesture? Offering to do this for you?" He turned his head and gave Gareth a flirtatious smile.

"This isn't the time, Martin," Gareth groused.

"Well _meow_, Gareth. Didn't mean to start a catfight."

Gareth bit at his tongue again in an attempt not to say words that would damage his standing with Martin.

"We don't ever do this night, this is gonna be tricky as fuck!" David yelled alongside several other people who often took part in their meat's transportation.

"We did, once." Gareth recalled their first meal.

The tricky procedure of getting the people out in the dark would be even trickier now. Simply opening the doors and yanking someone out wasn't all it took to retrieve the livestock they needed. They would frequently try and fight back, throwing punches and in the beginning, one girl even bit Mitch's arm. They developed the method of using tear gas if the populace of the car was large, and if it was small enough, they could occasionally go in with guns. But this time, they needed to use the most fool-proof method.

After the people had organized themselves, which included one of the the new girls, Hayley, they donned their gas masks and opened up the top of the traincar. They tossed in a can of tear gas and pulled open the side door to grab at anyone who was closest, they didn't have a preference at this point. They retrieved two women and one man, all middle aged. They were then bound and forced onto the killing floor.

"Please man, you don't gotta do this!" the middle-aged man pleaded.

"Shut up," Gareth muttered from beside him.

The place looked utterly terrifying at night, even to Gareth. Cold, hard steel, over-used saws, plastic aprons, blood-stained buckets and the remaining scent of iron illustrated the lit room in a way that made Gareth think it could serve as a circle of hell. It was certainly already a plane of hell to the three people who now knelt in front of Bessy, the name Gavin had nicknamed the trough.

The thought of hell made Gareth recall when he had read Dante's Inferno in college. He thought of the pictures he'd seen of Judas, Brutus and Cassius being consumed by Satan. Endlessly. Over and over again. He didn't remember any mention of the level of hell cannibals were sent to. He assumed it would be the seventh level reserved for those who were consumed by bloodlust. Cannibalism aside, Gareth knew he'd be sent there purely for the two times he enjoyed killing. He wondered what level the Occupiers would be sent to and if they'd share the same circle. The thought of being on the same plane as them discomforted him greatly and he banished the thought from his mind.

_Heaven and hell are right here on earth._ He knew that for a fact, he'd lived in them both.

He looked at he faces of the three in front of the trough, dirty, broken and trembling with a kind of terror that came close to piercing Gareth's heart, but he pulled a firm shield over it and didn't allow it to.

_'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here_.' _No, not true for Terminus. It could easily be a sanctuary for those who accepted. They could choose heaven over hell._

Terminus translated to the end of the line, a clever name that in the end became ironic. It _was_ the end of the line, nobody who arrived departed, whether they accepted the terms or not. Michael and Mary had named it, being as Atlanta's original name had been Terminus, they thought the name would be an omen of good faith being that the original Terminus grew to become a sprawling metropolis.

_Either become the demon or be consumed by one. Demons used to be angels after all.  
><em>

Gareth watched David instruct Martin how to operate the buzzsaw as simply as if he were showing him how to use a new toaster.

_Or maybe we all died in the turn and **this** is hell._

The sound of the electric saw coming to life filled the air.

"Hey, kiss the cook?" Martin turned around after adorning on the plastic apron.

"Get a sharpie and write it on there," Gareth replied. Not what Martin meant, Gareth deflected the flirtation on purpose.

_ Why don't you do it? Get your hands dirty._ Gareth recalled Gavin's words with malice.

Gavin had always had a small resentment towards those who avoided the dirty work around there. Gareth thought it was somewhat unfounded, as they rotated certain tasks around to ensure everyone had to have a hand in the brutal cost of survival. Despite the fact that people like Alex and Cynthia were squeamish and avoided the killing floor and the burning of human remains whenever they could, they did have to endure the sights every now and then.

Martin appeared as cool as complacent as he always did, causing Gareth to again wonder if Martin was a sociopath. He learned toward no as he seemed to express some remorse for having to kill his sister and spoke ill of having crossed people similar in character to the Occupiers. Gareth was curious about that, what was his experience with them? How did he know what kind of people they were?

Gareth noted that it certainly didn't take Martin long to get past his initial wide eyes and pale face at the sight of dissected human bodies, but Gareth knew he probably seemed sociopathic to people who didn't know him well. Everyone had to adopt a few antisocial traits to make it in these times.

"Hurry, please," Gareth said as Martin sharpened two butcher's knives against one another.

Martin and David turned as David carried a baseball bat over his shoulder. Gareth and the others had found the bat in someone's house with a signature of a famous baseball player ascribed on it. It had no doubt been someone's cherished possession.

"The hell kinda sports were you into before all this?" David asked Martin.

"Hardball," Martin joked as he took the bat from David and proceeded to hit the man furthest to the right in the back of the head, knocking him out.

"Whoa, hey! I didn't say you could do that yet!" Gareth yelled.

"Can I _please_ cut him now,_ mom?"_ Martin griped. Gareth raised his hand and signaled him go ahead. The other two who slouched over the trough next to the unconscious man trembled uncontrollably and tears spilled from their eyes, although they made no sounds other than the chattering of their teeth.

Martin lifted the man up by his chin and slid the blade across his neck, causing his blood to gush from the incision. Martin's incision was perfectly straight and the same depth that Gavin always dug.

"You're a natural, Martin," David remarked.

Gareth decided he didn't need to see what came next, he didn't mind it, but it often bored him. He decided he needed to talk to his mother as he observed the lingering sensation of the scrape of her nails on his face. He asked around as to where he could find her and learned that she was in the rec room.

Gareth stepped into the room and saw Mary reading some sort of magazine on the sofa, alone. "Mom, can I talk to you?"

"Go ahead," she replied without looking up.

Gareth walked over and carefully placed himself next to her, hoping she would look up at him. "You know I would've given them Theresa if I could've," he said.

Mary closed the magazine on her lap and turned her head to him. "You should have, I don't care what Kaylee said." She shook her head slightly.

"If it were you, you would have? Even if Alex begged you not to? Which you know he would've."

"You know how much I love Theresa, but she's not my daughter, even though I kid that she is. I'd put her in harm's way before Alex in a heartbeat."

"What if the risk of being hurt was greater to her and less to Alex, which I think it was, or is. I know she'd have been in there only maybe twelve hours at the most. But the guy Kaylee said was bad news... you know how much can happen in such a short amount of time. What if she was hurt in that time and-"

"How do you know he only does it to women? Say he didn't discriminate, then who would you pick?" Mary asked point-blank.

The hypothetical situation crossed Gareth's mind for a brief second and he felt regret when his instinct still settled on leaving Alex. Why? Because if he'd taken Alex back with him, or if he'd decided to stay behind in Atlanta because Theresa was there, he'd be a nightmare of a stress case. And Alex would take it out on him, cursing him out for putting Theresa in danger yet again.

And Theresa, despite staying behind although she could do nothing while still in Atlanta other than give moral support that Alex didn't know he was receiving, was much more level-headed than Alex. She had been angry and upset over the turn of events, but not anything like what Alex would have been if they'd handed her over instead.

Gareth felt a fierce stab of guilt at his feelings, the first real guilt he'd experienced in quite some time. He contemplated lying to Mary and saying of course he'd let them have Theresa, but he couldn't bear to lie to her, even about something like this.

Gareth swallowed roughly, unable to look Mary in the eyes. "I'd leave him." Saying the three words made the still lingering sensation of nails scraping against his cheek intensify. He wondered if his mother's strike would leave a mark.

Gareth breathed out a small sigh at the silence that she answered his confession with. "Because you know how he is, he would've freaked out. Theresa wasn't happy, believe me, but Alex might've... well, done something like slap me."

"You look so much like you father," Mary finally spoke again.

_What?_ Gareth hadn't expected a remark about his appearance.

"You have his eyes, and his eyebrows. You look more like him as you get older." She smiled softly.

"How much older have I gotten?" Gareth's voice lowered. He wasn't quite sure what she was trying to say.

"Too much." Mary looked down and began fiddling with the top corner of the magazine, flipping the pages with her thumb. She looked back up at him. "I'm sorry I hit you."

"Why wouldn't you hit the guy who'd give over your son first because he's annoying?" Gareth nearly choked on his words, but he felt relief upon releasing them.

"I should've just called you a 'god damn motherfucking son of a bitch', not hit my own son." Mary spoke with a real edge of pain in her voice.

Gareth felt she was being too forgiving and he wanted to know why.

"Did it actually feel like you were hitting your son? Because when we were in Atlanta, Alex and I had an incident and among other things, he said he feels like I'm a stranger."

Mary took a deep breath, not appearing at all surprised by what Alex had said. "It felt like... it felt like I was hitting the guy that runs this place. Not _you_, not the you who's in front of me right now."

"So, I _do_ feel like a stranger?"

"No, I _know_ the guy who runs this place. He's really good at what he does, he has great leadership skills and he's braver than you think someone his age could be. And he pissed me off tonight. Because honestly, he's an asshole sometimes. But I'll forgive him, I have to. I love him for what he's done for me and for everyone here. He had the galls to do what no one else would." Mary began clutching the edge of the magazine tightly.

"The guy who runs this place, you love him for what he does and what he's done, but do you like him?"

Mary took another deep breath. "I have to."

The words bypassed the anger Gareth felt for those who had a problem with who he was now and shot straight to shame. More shame. Shame that he'd made it so there was barely anything simple or easy about his relationships with his mother and brother.

_"Hey mom, what's cooking?"_ Gareth would say before the turn when every Sunday when he'd show up for breakfast, even though the answer was always the same. Mary always made omelets with chives, sharp cheddar cheese, crumbled Jimmy Dean sausage and shredded spinach. He missed those omelets. He missed the guilty pleasure of listening to the family gossip Mary would spill each Sunday. He missed the spot-on impression she did of her sister Patricia's hypochondriac nature.

He missed days with her that were casual and easy. The days that comprised of words that required no planning, no attempt at conveying a certain tone, no additional questions about if she's willing to walk the tracks that day. Just vowels and consonants that flowed out as easily as an exhaled breath.

"So, I'm a necessity, huh?" Gareth said humbly.

"I'm a necessity myself. Come on, you know how much I get sick of exchanging small talk with newcomers? I don't even remember half their names."

A small smile touched the left side of Gareth's mouth. "So, how do you feel about Terminus's door-greeter?"

Mary shrugged. "She comes across too nice, too Martha Stewart. I don't trust her."

Gareth gazed down at his folded hands. "So even my mom isn't my mom anymore." He had intended to think those words, but his mouth spoke them before his brain caught up.

"'Can't go back,'" Mary repeated Gareth's words.

Gareth looked back up at his mother's reflective expression. "Why do you have so much more faith in me than Alex?" His thoughts were once again spoken out loud.

"He has plenty of faith in you, he just operates on entirely different terms and conditions. Like... like you're Captain America and he's Superman."

Mary's joke brought laughter up from Gareth's chest, but it was bittersweet. Michael had been the first one to make that joke when Gareth and Alex were eight and six and were getting dressed in their Halloween costumes. Gareth was going as Captain America, while Alex was going as Superman. As their aunt Patricia was helping them into their costumes, Michael commented that them going as two big heroes from separate franchises suited them being as how different they both were. Gareth remembered how much he loved Captain America as a child, he reminisced fondly of the way he ran around in his costume that Halloween night and pretended to fight bad guys. As if being a good guy was that easy.

_Stupid kid_, Gareth thought of his child self.

David's sudden entry averted Gareth and Mary's eyes from one another.

"Almost time for you to hit the road," David said somewhat impatiently before disappearing back out the door.

"You know I'm going too," Mary said plainly.

Gareth exhaled roughly. "Of course."

* * *

><p>It was a bright night, the moon nearly full and the persisting lack of clouds in the sky had made the temperature fall to a pleasant, balmy cool. They chose the blue Dodge wagon and the white van they used for large hauls for their impending journey. They prepared the wagon to tow the Grady people's out-of-fuel sedan, wrapped the meat in large sheets of butcher paper and loaded it in the back of the van. Martin insisted he come along, as the stores they still planned to hit had items he said he didn't trust anyone else to actually get. That and he wanted to stop and pick up his hat which he'd left on the road, which he also didn't trust anyone to retrieve for him.<p>

Cynthia and Albert requested to go along as well, somewhat surprising Gareth. Gareth had noticed them spending quite a bit of time together and naturally, it crossed his mind that they might be sleeping together. Although, he greatly doubted Cynthia would want in the pants of a sixteen year-old boy. He _had_ seen Albert staring at her chest every now and then, but he frequently caught Albert checking out several women at Terminus. He always tried to pretend he wasn't and looked like a deer caught in the headlights when someone noticed. Gareth humorously recalled Albert ogling Theresa's breasts when she hadn't worn a bra while she and several others were having a game of poker late at night in the rec room. He was promptly met with a death glare from Alex when he noticed, causing Albert to immediately stop gawking at her.

Gareth thought Albert acting as a typical shy, horny teenager was a sign of progress. For a while, he had had trouble even looking people in the eye, let alone associating with a large group of them.

He decided Cynthia and Albert's relationship was most likely familial in nature and as their interactions always looked simple and easy, like family.

Cynthia drove the van alongside Albert in the passenger's seat, following the blue wagon. Gareth had only gotten four hours of sleep the night before in Atlanta, causing Mary to insist she make the drive to the city. Gareth protested, but his mother practically ordered him to sit in the backseat and attempt to get some sleep, although he only managed to doze off briefly during the trip. Gareth wondered if Martin felt at all weird sitting next to Mary being that he and Gareth were in middle of sort of a continuous foreplay. He doubted it, he didn't think Martin could feel awkward if he tried.

The city appeared even more nightmarish at night, not as nightmarish as Gareth saw the killing floor to be, but close. If he concentrated, he could make his eyes interpret it as an underwater city, lost in time from millennia ago.

Gareth and Mary knew Theresa might object, but they made the decision to retrieve Alex without her or Kaylee, they didn't want to waste any more time.

"Grady Memorial was where Patricia had Mabelle," Mary said as she set her sights on the building's roofs. Gareth pretended not to hear her comment as he attempted to smooth out his hair and rub the weariness from his face. Mary stopped the car at the entrance to the complex and Cynthia halted the van beside them.

"I'll get out first and chat up my new bestie Dawn when she shows her fabulous self," Gareth said as he pulled himself from the backseat and marched forward, switching over to his role as _the guy that runs this place_. He was unarmed, which he loathed being. He felt as if he were a fluffy white seal in a sea of killer whales. Appropriate, he thought, being as he'd just imagined Atlanta as another Atlantis.

"We're here and we got your meat, come on out and have a look. We should tell you that your loaner car has sucky gas mileage and crapped out on the way back, but we towed it back for you," Gareth shouted, eyes darting around the dark courtyard, looking for signs of movement. After a few moments, he saw the front door quiver and he nearly flinched at the sight, preparing for the possibility of a fight.

Eventually, Dawn and four other officers appeared from the building, guns in hand.

"It's in the van, Cynthia and Albert will drive up and you can take a look." Gareth raised his right hand and signaled for Cynthia roll the van up. She slowly drove the vehicle forward before coming to a stop just before where Gareth stood, then stepped outside alongside Albert as they both strolled to the back and opened the two rear doors.

"Go," Dawn ordered the two male officers on either side of her to head to the back of the van.

"One fifty-two, weighed it ourselves." Gareth gave a quick, single nod at Dawn. She simply stared at him with skeptical eyes.

"You ground some of it?" One of the officers said as he analyzed the bounty.

Cynthia tilted her head slightly, hoping she would come across looking like an innocent puppy. "Yep, always do. That a problem?"

The officer shook his head. "Nah, just didn't expect it."

Gareth glanced over his shoulder. "Well, look good to you?" he shouted.

"What's from what and where?" the other officer said.

Cynthia stepped forward. "Well, this is from a rump of a pig." She and Albert lifted up a sheet of white butcher's paper to reveal a large, fatty cut from a woman's thigh. "And the ground here is all beef." She pointed to the processed meat in clear plastic wrap. Mostly ground from the three people's organs. "This is chunks of stomach, both cow and pig, really good for stews and-"

"Funniest looking meat I ever saw." The officer furrowed his brow.

Gareth nearly stopped breathing at the words, wondering how much it would take for them to make the jump from 'what funny looking meat' to 'that's not a cow or a pig.'

"Where are the bones?" he asked.

_Just shut up and take it._

"Oh, we thought we'd de-bone most of it as a nice gesture, that a problem?" Cynthia said in the most polite, southern belle voice she could muster.

The officer shook his head.

Gareth turned back to Dawn and her eager expression. "Alright, Dawn, you wanna have a gander or take his word for it?"

Dawn evaded Gareth's question and narrowed her eyes at the blue wagon. "Martin came back with you, but where's Alex's girl?"

"She wasn't feeling well, she's back home," Gareth lied.

"That Alex's mom?" Dawn focused her eyes on Mary in the driver's seat.

Gareth felt an irritation creak up his throat. "Just a friend. Volunteered to drive because I'd have been falling asleep at the wheel if I did," he half-lied.

Dawn appeared to mull over Gareth's words. "Jack, bring a cut over here." Dawn said. One policeman nodded and took hold of a thirty pound slab of wrapped meat and carried it over to Dawn and the other two officers.

Gareth repressed a self-satisfied smirk as he saw Dawn unwrap and look over the long pig she thought was just pig. Dawn looked up through her eyelashes to read Gareth's face, attempting to find a note of deception on it, but Gareth showed none. He'd won three out of the five games of poker they'd played when Albert had been mentally undressing Theresa.

"Get Alex," She said to the officer behind her. "We'll bring him out, he'll stay right by me and we'll unload your part. After that, he goes and we never have to see each other again."

Relief overcame Gareth, although he tried not not to allow it to. It wouldn't be a done deal until they'd left the city with all their people. Gareth half turned to face his mother in the car and gave her a nod, indicating the deal was going according to plan. Mary opened the driver's side door and stepped out, eagerly watching the hospital's entrance.

"Didn't think you'd actually do it," one of the male officers said to Gareth before disappearing inside the hospital.

"Do I not have a trustworthy face?" Gareth kidded.

When the doors finally swung open, the officer appeared with his hand lightly gripping Alex's left arm. Mary roused at the sight, but held back her desire to run to him.

"Mom?" Alex expressed surprise to see her there.

_Damnit, Alex._ Despite the futility of it, Gareth still attempted to keep their relations a secret, but now Alex had just proven to Dawn that he had lied to her.

"So, that _is_ the mom." Dawn nodded, obviously pleased with having been correct.

Mary smiled wide, relief flooding her face. Alex returned the smile, but worry clearly plagued him. Theresa.

"Go, get the meat. Alex, not a word, not a step further." Dawn said. Alex grit his teeth and nodded. Three new policeman pulled stretchers from inside the hospital and Cynthia and Albert assisted them in transporting the fare inside. Martin unenthusiastically climbed out of the wagon and helped several of Dawn's men move the car they had towed out of the way. After they had handed over their share, the the rest of the officers stood alongside Dawn in front of the entrance as Gareth and his people stood by their two vehicles.

"Alright, Alex. You can go now," Dawn said.

Alex stepped forward, trying not to break into a run, and headed straight for Mary as they instantly wrapped their arms around each one another, squeezing tightly.

"Sorry all this happened," Alex said into her ear.

Mary rubbed his back. "You're okay now baby, that's all that matters."

Gareth tried to recall the last time Mary called _him_ baby, but he couldn't remember. She certainly hadn't done so since he'd become _the guy who runs this place_. He felt a pang of jealously that Mary still thought of Alex as her baby, but apparently, not him.

Alex pulled away and looked over everyone who stood in front of him. "Where-"

"We're glad to have to done business with you, we hope never to again, but nevertheless, thank you," Dawn said before her and her people turned and reentered the hospital. The deal was finally over.

Gareth raised his hand to frame his mouth. "Anytime!" He shouted as they closed the doors behind them.

Alex turned to Gareth with a look of unease. "Gareth, where's Theresa?"

"She and Kaylee are at Shady's Bar. She wanted to stay behind while we went back because she didn't want to leave you. And Kaylee stayed with her for good measure." Gareth anticipated Alex's negative reaction.

"Did you check on 'em before you came here?"

Gareth shook his head. "Nope, came straight here."

"Well, don't just stand there, let's go get 'em," Alex grumbled as he trudged past Gareth and entered the back of the blue wagon.

They took their places in the two vehicles, Mary still driving, and made their way to Shady's Bar. Gareth tried to think of something to say to Alex as he sat across from him in the back seat, coming up blank before he thought of what he hoped would be the perfect thing.

"Hey superman, Lois Lane's gonna be really happy to see you," Gareth said.

Alex smiled and turned his head to Gareth. "Don't call her Lois Lane to her face, she's Harley Quinn, man."

Gareth felt a wave of relief upon Alex's positive reaction. "Wasn't Poison Ivy your first love?"

"Yeah and you wanted to be Robin, it was obvious."

Gareth began to speak a lewd reply, _you should've known then that I'd occasionally like it up the ass_, when he decided he should censor himself being as his mother was in hearing range. Although he wished he could see Martin's reaction to it.

As they reached the bar, Mary stopped the car in front and Alex immediately jumped out and raced toward the front doors as Gareth followed, clasping the knife in his holster in case things had turned nasty. Alex pushed opened the door and they carefully tread in, observing the near darkness of the room save for the light emanating from the windows up front. The sudden sound of rustling behind the bar caught their attention as they saw Theresa and Kaylee launch up from their seated positions.

"Alex!" Theresa exclaimed joyfully as she hurried into his arms. Kaylee picked up the duffel bag from the ground beside her and slowly glided over to stand next to Gareth, flashing him a polite smile.

Gareth and Kaylee stood somewhat awkwardly by as Alex and Theresa exchanged a soft, affectionate kiss and rest their foreheads against one another, smiling wide.

Gareth began to groan internally at the sappiness of their reunion, sappiness being something he didn't know Theresa was capable of before her relationship with his brother, when he remembered that he used to rest his forehead against Chelsea's too.

Simple. Easy.

He then expressed the smallest smile at the sight of the two, not big enough to be noticed by anyone who wasn't looking for it, but he felt more than he showed. He experienced both a happiness for Alex and Theresa and a stab of sorrow over how he'd lost the same thing. Not only a romantic love due to the large and eager hands of death, but of the familial ones amongst his living family that were damaged more than he had initially known.

Gareth didn't like this. He didn't like the way the things that had happened over the past day and a half had made him feel and the things they'd unearthed. He didn't want to have to go and look for goods, wade around through a bunch of walkers and endure the exhausting ride home. He wanted to fall flat on his bed and sleep for days.

Theresa and Alex let go of one another and turned to Gareth and Kaylee.

"Who else came along?" Theresa asked.

"Cynthia, Albert, my mom, Martin," Gareth replied.

"Albert and Cynthia?" Kaylee said.

"Yeah and unfortunately, we're still not going straight home. It'd be foolish to waste gas driving us back to Terminus, then back again to that strip mall," Gareth said.

Theresa sighed. "Yeah, I figured as much. I don't see blood soaking through your clothes, so I take it they bought it?"

"They looked skeptical as hell, but they ate it up. Wink, wink," Gareth jested.

Theresa ignored Gareth's joke. "Kaylee, get the rest of our crap and let's get the fuck out of here."


	13. Ugly Business

Theresa was still tired despite having slept in after returning to Terminus the night before, but Terminus doesn't supply days off unless you happen to be seriously ill. She had been on watch on the roofs alongside Gina, who she rarely go along with, therefore they had exchanged few words during their shift. After Theresa was finished with her task and deposited her rifle in the armory on the way down, she made her way to the front gate where she had seen Alex adjusting the greeting signs along with Maddie and Mike.

As she arrived, she saw the three watching the tracks. Theresa assumed a new arrival must have appeared while she was passing through the building.

"I'll bet you five jerky bits that she's crazy. Flat-out nuts and drove the rest of her group off or killed 'em," Mike said.

"Nah, old, sad widow," Maddie said.

Alex stepped forward to get a better look at the woman. "She don't look that old."

Theresa knew Alex hadn't noticed she was there, or he would have greeted her with the trademark delighted grin that he reserved just for her. She hoped he'd never stop giving her that smile, like her former fiancee who remained her fiancee for two years finally did. But she doubted her relationship with Alex would turn out like her previous one had, being that Alex wasn't anything like her former husband-to-be. She had thought of perhaps asking Alex if he'd want to have a 'new-world' wedding at Terminus, almost certain he'd say yes, but she hadn't known just how to bring it up.

She approached Alex from behind and placed her hand on his shoulder, making him flinch.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed as he turned around. "Theresa, don't sneak up on me." He gave her a startled, yet relieved half-smile

Theresa scrunched her face. "Sorry, I thought you'd hear me coming," she apologized as she removed her hand and stepped over beside him.

As Theresa focused her eyes on the woman who was trudging forward at about forty feet away, the stranger noticed the four of them standing behind the gates and expressed a smile at the sight of them. Alex returned the smile along with a small wave while the remaining three simply watched her.

She honed in her eyes on the woman, finally being able to make out her features, when a sense of familiarity hit her.

_Looks almost like..._

"...no," Theresa whispered.

"Is this the right place?" The lumbering woman shouted in a humorous tone, no doubt because Terminus was written in huge letters on the building. The woman's medium-length, dark hair was obviously unwashed and tangled. She wore a loose, ripped, dirty and green long-sleeved shirt over equally tattered blue jeans. She didn't appear to be carrying any kind of bag or other supplies, which surprised Theresa; all these things told her that the lone woman must be at the end of her rope.

Theresa stepped forward, passed the ajar gate and at last saw the woman's face come into full view. Her heart skipped a beat, the face front of her was one she knew. There was no mistaking it as the woman came closer, unless she had finally lost her mind, she had known the person coming forth her entire life.

"Mom!?" Theresa shouted. She thought she heard someone saying something next to her, but her attention had been starkly averted.

The woman halted, her eyes grew as she looked her up and down and her mouth proceeded to gape open. "Theresa!?"

Theresa broke into a sprint, eager to erase the gap between the two that seemed to take ages rather than seconds to achieve. She paused for a brief moment in front of her mother, just to make absolutely sure it was her. It was. Her mother looked much like an older version of herself, which had given Theresa an image of what she might look like when she was older. Her mother's eyes had aged since the last time she'd laid her own on them. The lines around them had grown sharper, the bags underneath them had rounder, and her once microdermabrasion-treated face had grown dry and splotchy. But it was her, no doubt about it.

"Mom!" Theresa practically leaped into her mother's arms as she immediately reciprocated. An eruption of hysterical laughter mixed with heavy weeping filled the afternoon air as they both lost their balance and collapsed to the ground while still retaining their grip. Theresa's body was on fire with euphoria and disbelief, wondering if it was a dream. She thought it couldn't possibly be one though, the lines on her mother's face were too detailed and the intensity of her wide eyes too vivid to be a trick of the mind.

The questions that ran through her head were so many she wasn't sure how to form the words to ask them. This was_ impossible_, she knew there was no way she could've gotten free from a horde that size. She saw the dead swarm around her, encasing her, she knew she'd been eaten alive. That was the reason Theresa kept running, because the walkers had surely mauled her mother to death and was sure she would have been next if she hadn't kept moving.

Theresa heard steps behind her, many in fact. No doubt the scene had caused quite the stir from those who saw.

Theresa finally gathered the rationale to pull away and took in the sight of her mother's face once more, this time it was bright red and painted with jovial tears.

"How? I-I _saw_ it, I saw you, I _knew_..." Theresa cried.

"I-I dropped to ground, flat, flat on my stomach-" her mother choked out.

"Your stomach?"

"Yes, I did and I didn't think it would work and they saw me, they did, but your father, he was... he was down there too, all chewed-up. And I managed to stick my hand in his... stomach, and I smeared myself with blood, like we saw those two men do in that horde. I didn't think it would be enough, but it was. I crawled slowly, really slowly, through them and eventually I got to where I could stand and run. I looked for you..." She began to sob as she pressed her hand to her daughter's cheek.

Theresa slouched down. "Mom..."

"I looked everywhere. I never found your body so I kept hoping you were alive, I spent a week still in Atlanta looking."

A stab of guilt penetrated Theresa's gut. "I'm so sorry, I saw you go down, I... I knew you were dead so I didn't look back. Mom, I'm so sorry." She wept and buried her face in her hands.

"No, no it's okay. You survived, you're here. You're _here_." She brought her arms back around her daughter and rocked her back and forth.

Theresa felt several taps on her shoulder, reminding her that she and her mother were not the only people there. She pulled away from her mother's arms and turned to see Alex bent down, smiling widely at her.

"Oh, oh um..." Theresa sputtered as she released her mother and they both stood up.

"Alex, this is my mom." Theresa laughed at the fact that she was introducing her boyfriend to her mother, something she had always dreaded doing before the turn, but now she was overjoyed to have the privilege.

"Yeah, yeah I gathered as much." Alex laughed.

"Well, I'm Karen. Nice to meet you and um..." Karen said as she crossed her vision over the number people who had gathered behind him.

"Oh, this is Maddie and that's Mike, uh Gavin, Greg, that's Cynthia and Camille." Theresa named the people in the vicinity as she wiped the tears from her face. Some wore smiles, while a few donned expressions of skepticism. Theresa didn't even know their exact thoughts, but she wanted to tell those with less than impressed faces, like Gavin and Mike, that it would be fine. That her mother would of course join and that her happiness wasn't premature.

Finally, she saw Gareth make his appearance from indoors. He wore his usual 'greeting newcomers' face. His eyes resting on Theresa's red and wet face for longer than usual was all that indicated that this arrival was different.

Theresa extended her hand outwards. "And um, this is Gareth."

Gareth raised his hand and offered Karen a wave. "Word around is you're Theresa's mother." He laughed. "Well, welcome to Terminus."

Gareth then gave a serious, yet casual glance to Maddie which caused her to move over to where Karen stood.

"You got any weapons, hun?" Maddie asked Karen.

Theresa experienced a rush of offense at the protocol being used on her mother, but she stayed silent. She knew she'd be cross if they disregarded the new arrival rules for someone else's long-lost relative.

Theresa also knew there were snipers trained on her mother's head from the roofs at that very second, the fact made her want to get this part over with as quickly as possible

Karen seemed taken aback at the question. "Oh uh..."

"It's just protocol, mom. Never know what kind of people are gonna walk in," Theresa assured.

Karen nodded understandably. "Thirty-Eight Special," she replied as she pulled up her long shirt to reveal the revolver in her belt holster.

Theresa nearly laughed at the name of a gun coming from her mother's mouth, recalling Karen having been the cucumber face masks and massages on a weekend spa trip type of woman.

"Can you put it on the ground?" Gareth asked, flashing her his typical 'we're all friends here' smile. "Just a precaution," He added, holding his right hand up flat. Karen unsheathed the weapon and slowly knelt down to place it on the concrete before her. Theresa could nearly feel the intensity of the sniper's scopes aimed between her mother's eyes as she did this.

Maddie then began to search Karen who frowned slightly as she held her arms out to be frisked. Theresa turned and scanned the crowd, looking for Alex's face for reassurance when she spotted him five feet away to her left. His arms were crossed and his enthusiastic expression had faded into one of impatience. She locked her eyes on his, trying to get him to notice her gaze before she gave up and turned her head back to her mother.

Maddie retrieved the revolver from the ground and held it out to Karen. "Alright, here you go."

Karen appeared confused. "You-you're letting me keep it?"

Maddie raised her eyebrows. "You're not gonna shoot up the place where your daughter lives, right?"

"She's not," Theresa barked. Maddie shrugged and proceeded to amble back in the direction of indoors.

Gareth took several steps forward and stopped at Theresa's side. "I'll go tell Mary to make Karen a plate," He said to Theresa before turning his vision to Karen's weary face. "You must be hungry."

_'Mary.'_ _How long do we have to keep this up now?_

Alex hurried forward through the group of now dispersing people to join the three. "I'll tag along, me and Theresa are pretty tight. I can tell you all about her shenanigans," he teased. Karen expressed a polite smile.

_'Pretty tight.' Really?_ _  
><em>

She knew she shouldn't be offended, no matter who the person is, you follow Gareth's Rules of Order. But this wasn't a crazy widow, this was her mother. And her honesty over her weapon should have been enough to tell them that she wasn't a threat.

"Okay, you kids have fun." Gareth waved himself off. He at least had enough confidence to let her and Alex show Karen around.

Theresa eagerly erased the space between her and her mother yet again and embraced her, burying her face in her neck. When they released one another, they took each other's hand and walked alongside Alex to the area where Mary and others grilled up meat for newcomers. Karen hung her vision on the sunflowers as they walked, seemingly impressed by their vitality, most people were. As they met their destination, they saw Gavin handing Mary an assortment of cuts in sheets of paper, fresh off the cattle.

The fact that Theresa was going to stand by while her unknowing mother was turned into a cannibal hit her for the first time.

_Doesn't matter, she'll understand, she'll say yes. I know her._

"Hello, Gavin here told me you were Theresa's mother?" Mary said as she held the cuts of meat and looked Karen up and down. Mary still wore her hair in the elaborate up-do she and Kaylee had helped her with earlier that morning.

Things had become somewhat awkward between Theresa and Kaylee ever since the incident at Shady's Bar. Kaylee would often rest her eyes on her when she thought she didn't know with looks that communicated longing and desperation. Theresa wondered if Kaylee would take her up on her offer to come be by her side the next time she felt like taking out her razors.

"Yeah, I know. It's a miracle." Karen smiled at Theresa by her side.

"Damn, you look just like her," Gavin remarked as he rested his hands on his hips.

"I know, we used to get that a lot," Theresa chuckled.

"Well, you'll fit in here real good. Gotta go, nice meetin' you." Gavin lumbered off.

"I don't understand, she told me about what happened. How did you survive?" Mary asked while she moved over and set the meat down on the end of the grill.

"Well, I dropped to the ground in the horde and crawled over and-" Karen began with a look of distress.

"You don't have to talk about it," Theresa interrupted, "she doesn't have to talk about it now." She shot Mary a look of discontent.

"Of course, I'm sorry." Mary shook her head and began unwrapping the meat.

Alex then glided over to the array of tables and chairs that rest behind Mary and her special meal. "So, you wanna sit down?"

"Yes, I'd love to," Karen said as she and Theresa walked over to the table Alex stood by and sat down next to one another.

"You want anything to drink?" Alex asked.

"And I thought Southern hospitality was dead. Yes I would, but with my meal," Karen replied.

_Southern hospitality._ Theresa recalled her parents' comments on the subject when they moved from Dover, Delaware when she was seventeen. They had said they thought their geniality was only because they wanted something in return.

_Pretty true nowadays,_ she mused.

Alex nodded and pursed his lips, clearly unsure if he should join them or not.

Theresa decided to quit playing the secrets game. "Alex, you give her the great history of Terminus, brother of the guy in charge and all." She saw Mary give a glance of slight alarm over her shoulder at the reveal of Alex's relation, but she continued to prepare their meal.

Alex pulled out the lawn chair in front of him, sat down and proceeded to give Karen the 'history' of Terminus. The beginning, how it was founded by his family, how his father died from from a 'walker bite' the year before and how Gareth stepped up to take charge. Karen appeared as impressed as she did sad and expressed her regret that she couldn't have been there with her daughter all along.

_I'm so, so glad you **weren't** here, mom._

After Mary had finished cooking the 'venison,' she served the three of them a plate of the intoxicating delicious-smelling meat seasoned with plain salt and black pepper along with three glasses of filtered water.

"Oh my god, this is best I've eaten in... months, I think." Karen eagerly devoured her piece with a fork and knife and guzzled her drink. Theresa couldn't help stare at her at times, an unease settling inside her at the sight of her mother being fed someone named Clarissa.

Alex kept switching between eating with his fork to with his hands, making Theresa worry her mother would show some disapproval at his lack of etiquette, but she barely paid any attention to him while she ate, or to Theresa for that matter. Hunger is all-consuming.

When they finished, Alex gathered their empty plates and cups and carried them over to his mother who set them in a stack on the edge of the grill. Theresa wanted to eat more, she hadn't realized that she was so hungry until she bit into the woman's flesh, but she knew she could have more later.

_Women always taste better. _Theresa assumed Alex's theory as to why they did was true. She recalled how the first two non-Occupiers they ate, the mother and daughter team, tasted compared to the men they had consumed prior. She remembered how much those first two women looked alike, she only saw them briefly when they arrived, but they had reminded her of she and her mother.

"I'll show you around the rest of place?" Theresa said to Karen before turning to Alex, "Uh, Alex, just me and her. I'd like some me and her time."

"Yeah, sure. No problem." Alex smiled, then proceeded to assist Mary in gathering the soiled plates and utensils from cooking.

"It was so lovely to meet you," Mary said as she and Alex flashed Karen a smile while the two women departed.

Theresa showed her mother around the rest of Terminus' 'innocent' areas and happily introduced her to everyone she came across, as well as exchanged more small talk with Gareth.

"That guy Alex sure seems to like you," Karen said as they advanced down the hallway of Terminus' quarters.

Alex's relation to Gareth and Mary had been unveiled, but Theresa had put off telling Karen of her relationship with Alex. She hoped the turn had given her mother enough perspective to not have remained the disapproving parent who rolled her eyes at every man Theresa had even had one date with, but she couldn't help but worry it hadn't.

"Well, actually, him and I are together," Theresa said, hoping her reaction would be good.

"Oh, oh okay that explains it. How long?" Karen's voice carried uncertainty.

"A few months, we had a mutual crush on each other for a lot longer though. Just didn't know the other one felt the same way, you know how it goes."

"Well, he seems very sweet. Is he?"

"Yeah, he's really good to me, don't worry."

"Oh, well good."

Theresa detected happiness in her mother's voice that she had found someone who good to her, but obvious wariness over who it was.

_Whatever, just brush it off._

* * *

><p>"And I was fuckin' sure she'd hatched out of a vulture's egg," Martin said of Theresa as he cut on a piece of wood in the map room with a saw too dull to work properly.<p>

Gareth handed Martin a sharper saw. "Yeah well, I have a bad feeling about all this."

Martin accepted the tool. "Thanks. And yeah, so do I."

It was nearing dusk, they were the only two in the room and once again, talk of their inclinations to one another hadn't come up. Gareth thought about doing something ridiculously movie-cliche and knocking everything off the table and having Martin on its surface, but he didn't want to damage the work. He decided against picking up the items and carefully setting them elsewhere as it wouldn't be very seductive.

"So..." Gareth baited Martin.

"So?"

"After Theresa's tucked her mom into bed, let's finally settle this in my room."

Martin's face lit up. "I'll see you there, college boy. Want me to bring anything?"

Gareth narrowed his eyes. "'College boy?''

"Just a joke, sorry."

_So that's how he sees me.  
><em>

"Well, it's almost supper, ain't it?" Martin asked.

"Wear a watch, Martin. There's at least four in the sorting room."

"Whatever, I'm starving." Martin then proceeded to march off to the way of the dining hall. Gareth stayed behind and further looked over the signs they had been constructing. They had been making more recently, being that not as many people had been coming in as of late and thus they decided more exposure would help their problem.

After a few minutes, Gareth departed and headed towards the dining hall as well. They didn't always have a dinner service where everyone who was not on watch or had another duty to take care of had to attend, but when trying to impress a potential recruit, they always put on the best show.

As Gareth entered the brightly-lit and somewhat crowded room, the pleasant and comforting scent of cooking meat filled his airways. The aroma sometimes threw him back to summertime barbeques, the blazing Georgia heat, the obnoxious whirring of the air conditioning unit on the outside of the house and the paper plates they ate their fare on that always ended up torn from being handled improperly.

He searched the sea of faces looking for Theresa and Karen, eventually spotting them near the door to the kitchen sitting by themselves at a table that seated four people. Gareth gave greetings and waves to his people as he made his way though the stuffy room to meet the two.

He made two knocks on the table Karen and Theresa inhabited to get their attention. "How are you feeling, Karen?"

Karen presented Gareth a cheerful smile while Theresa's expression tightened. "I'm not a religious nut, but damn, I feel blessed," she replied.

"Good, good. I'm so glad. Hey, why don't I serve us? It's a tradition for the boss to serve our new residents."

"I'd love that, I'm whacked," Theresa said, looking as if she was eager for him to leave.

"Alright, I'll be right back." Gareth gave a tap to the table with both hands, turned and made his way into the kitchen.

"These are more quote, 'venison fillets,' unquote, right?" Gareth asked Camille and Gavin who busied themselves laying out prepared cuts of meat in a tin baking pan.

"Of the finest kind," Gavin replied, without looking up from his task.

"Can I get through? I'm serving mama bear and baby bear," Gareth said.

"Yeah," Gavin said as he stepped away from his effort.

Gareth proceeded to take three paper plates as well as three forks and knives and began to add slices of 'venison fillets' to it.

"Think Karen will join us permanently?" Camille asked as she moved a large helping of steamed vegetables grown in their garden into a serving bowl.

Gavin shook his head. "I don't see it, no way. Chick's all soft hands and 'yes pleases.' Ain't got the sack, I could tell right off."

Gareth frankly found the thought reprehensible. "You think she'd choose your table over being with her own daughter?"

"Yeah, I do. We know people like her, once it gets down to the nit and grit they scream and cover their eyes."

Gareth had a feeling Gavin was right, but he did hope he wasn't for Theresa's sake.

Gareth then helped himself to the bowl of grilled vegetables, placing a serving on each of the three plates, then set them on a dinner tray.

"Could one of you open the door for this busboy?" Gareth asked. Camille stepped over and pulled the kitchen door open for him, "Thanks."

As he stepped out, he saw Mary had joined Karen and Theresa at the table, appearing to be in the throws of what looked like a captivating conversion. Alex had had to miss this particular occasion being that he had been assigned perimeter watch, which he had definitely complained about.

He made his way over to their table as Karen spotted him and waved him over. "There you are, your mother was just telling me about those vegetables you grow. I haven't had a zucchini since before the outbreak," Karen beamed.

Gareth wondered what is was that had made Theresa say that Karen could be a 'nightmare bitch from Hades' when she spoke of her mother's persona before, she seemed plenty tolerable to him.

"Yep, gotta love those squash," Gareth said as he seated himself in the remaining empty chair in between Mary and Karen and placed the tray in front of him. "Sorry, mom, I could go get you-"

"No, no, I'm alright, I can serve myself. Because first, I wanted to confess that I've referred to Theresa as my daughter a few times. I know that title belongs to you, Karen," Mary said.

_Jeez, laying it on thick, aren't you mom?_ Gareth thought with an internal grimace.

Karen chuckled as Gareth handed Karen and Theresa their suppers. "Oh, no, I'm glad. How did you become so close?"

Mary and Theresa's faces fell somewhat, trying to come up with a flowery explanation.

Theresa put on a happy grin as she reached for the pepper shaker on the table's center. "Well, we'd always gotten along really well and after Alex, she was so happy that she started calling me her daughter. Kinda embarrassing, but hey." She laughed as she gave a few shakes of pepper to her meat and vegetables before taking to it with her fork and knife.

"'After Alex?'" Karen narrowed her eyes. "Oh! Right, sorry." She shook her head and dug in to her plate as well.

_Oh, she's **that** kind of mom_, Gareth concluded. The passive-aggressive, critical parent whose child just never quite reaches their standards.

_Guess she wasn't impressed by Alex._

Gareth's theory was further supported by the scowl Theresa was clearly trying to hold back as she brought her piece of meat to her mouth.

Gareth decided a change of subject was in order. "So, have you even seen the vegetable garden yet, Karen?"

"Yes, I did. Must be a pain in the ass to keep up for all these people," Karen replied as she stuck her fork through a slice of zucchini, then through a bit of meat she'd cut off.

"Yeah, the garden can get pretty messy," Gareth remarked. He finally began helping himself to his plate as his mother departed to retrieve hers.

The rest of the meal was generally pleasant, albeit for several back-handed compliments given to Theresa by Karen. Gareth cleared their table and saw Karen, Theresa and Mary to the rec room where they engaged in friendly and laughter-filled games and conversation along with other Terminants. An obviously nervous Alex eventually joined them, who was then racked with questions from Karen that Theresa promptly attempted to shut down.

After the festivities had drawn to a close, Gareth ventured to the laundry room where he had the powdered blue t-shirt he'd managed to hold onto since they'd arrived at Terminus in mind. Camille had worked tirelessly to attempt to remove a blood stain from it from earlier in the day from when Mitch had displayed sloppy butchering abilities.

_"Whoa, man! Watch what you're doing!"_ Gareth had yelled when Mitch lost control of the buzzsaw he was using to remove a woman's arm, causing blood to fly in all different directions.

He opened the door to the small laundry room, surprised to find it illuminated by the low-watt bulb that rest in the ceiling light, but even more surprised to find Martin standing in it digging through an assortment of clothes in a basket.

"If you're so desperate to get close to my scent that you're looking for my dirty laundry, then I'm worried for you," Gareth teased.

Martin turned his head to him. "Yeah, you wish. Why are you in here?"

"Shirt with streaks of spurted blood on it courtesy of Mitch," Gareth said as he shut the door behind him.

"Why do you even still use him?"

"What, you want the job?"

"I'm better at it than him, so yeah if you give the okay then I'm on board," Martin answered as if it were an obvious question.

"Maybe," Gareth said as walked over to an assortment of clothes which hung on wire hangers that were hooked on the back of a chair He unearthed his blue shirt and held it up to see the results. "Ruined." He sighed as he saw light brown still streaked across the front. He then turned to see Martin staring at him, a slightly hungry look in his eyes.

"What?" Gareth said.

Martin shrugged. "Just objectifyin' you," he replied.

Gareth smiled and shook his head. "Alright then." He placed the hanger back on the chair.

Martin lifted up the basket of clothes, dumped them on the floor, and proceeded to spread them out.

"Whoa, what the hell?" Gareth exclaimed.

"Man, fuck your room, fuck me right here, come on," Martin requested as he gestured to the pile.

"I'm not keen on getting that stuff on people's clothes."

He twitched his eyebrows upwards. "Then we'll lick it off."

_Oh god_. The five words turned Gareth on, he didn't want them to, not there, but they did.

_Ah, what the hell._

Gareth sighed. "Alright." He stepped forward and placed his right hand in the most personal spot.

_Payback's a bitch_, he thought.

Martin let out a pleased breath and smiled triumphantly. Gareth was displeased with the reaction and intended to change it—he wanted to make the other man whimper.

He then wrapped his arm around Gareth's waist, pulled him in, and started kissing at his neck. Gareth exhaled from the pleasure of the warmth.

"That's it, baby," Martin said against Gareth's neck.

"Let's lie down." Gareth said into Martin's ear with a smile. Gareth proceeded to move over and lay himself on the pile of sloppily strewn clothes as Martin grinned and climbed on top of him. Martin attempted to remove Gareth's burgundy, button-up overshirt, causing Gareth to sit up slightly and shrug it off. Martin then pulled up Gareth's dark grey t-shirt and tossed it over the head of the man beneath him, now sitting up on Gareth's hips.

Martin beamed at the sight of Gareth's bare chest and ran both of his hands down it.

He liked this. It felt good, easy, simple. He liked that there was nothing complicated about it, no strings, just mutual benefit. It certainly wasn't making love, he knew he'd never get to do that again, but it gave him a warm feeling across his body from something other than arousal. Martin was the only one who had defended his actions in Atlanta, Kaylee didn't object, but she didn't defend him either.

_Having one uncomplex relationship is a godsend_.

Gareth began to lift up Martin's shirt to remove it when Martin ceased him by gripping his hand. "You're gonna have to _romance these clothes off me_," he teased.

While Gareth chuckled, Martin leaned down and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Gareth felt a ravenous need rising up inside of him as he was still untouched. He then placed his hands on Martin's shoulders and gave him a push, hoping he would get the idea.

"Oh yeah right, that," Martin said as he moved down and began kissing and licking at Gareth's chest as Gareth's eyes fluttered shut, letting the sensations envelop him.

"This is gonna blow your mind," Martin bragged as he nipped at Gareth's stomach and unfastened his belt.

"Shhhhh," Gareth silenced him.

The other man wasted no time, doing to Gareth what he had fantasized having done to him to many times. Clearly, Martin had been with more than a few men before. A hypothetical image struck Gareth of the other man pre-turn in the broom closet after Sunday morning church service servicing a fellow male attendee. He held back laughter at the thought that he was certain had occurred.

Martin then wiped his hand, moved up to Gareth's face and planted a soft kiss on his lips. "My turn," he said with a small smirk.

_Stupid smirk_, Gareth thought, but was riding too high to care.

They turned over and Martin removed his shirt and Gareth repeated Martin's actions of kissing his neck, chest and stomach. He massaged the cropped hair on the nape of Gareth's neck as he did so, making breathy noises with half-lidded eyes. Finally, he made his way down and gave the other man what he had gotten himself. Something else he had fantasized about many times.

During the act, morbid thoughts ensued about what other parts of him, underneath the skin, would taste like. But it was irrelevant, Martin was very much alive and Gareth intended to keep him that way.

"Oh, wow..." Martin said afterwards with starry eyes.

Gareth moved back up and chortled next to Martin's ear, overcome with the joy of having done something spontaneous and actually _fun_. It temporarily made him forget the issue of Theresa's mother and stress of keeping on his public face. His mind and body felt relaxed, cool and sated as he listened to Martin try and steady his breathing.

* * *

><p>Theresa had taken the liberty to prepare her mother a light breakfast, recalling that eating too much in the morning made Karen queasy. Theresa stood in the kitchen in mid-morning, gazing into the oven, watching several rolls brown as she imagined all the ways the reveal to her mother might go. She wanted to be the one to begin it and to give her the main information, but she also knew Gareth had to be there to mediate, which she was grateful for.<p>

"Tick tock." Gareth's unexpected voice sounding from behind her made her flinch.

Theresa turned to meet Gareth's face, he appeared more chipper than usual.

"I'll do it, _we'll_ do it, today. This afternoon, I promise," Theresa said before turning and retrieving the four rolls from the oven.

"Okay well, meanwhile you can-" Gareth leaned over and took hold of a carton of lard spread, "-chew the fat." He set the carton in front of her and proceeded to stroll away.

She shook her head, reached for a butter knife and slathered a bit of lard on each one, then dipped the the knife in a jar of nectarine preserves and added a spread to them. She put away the ingredients before placing the bread on a plate and took them to the adjoining room where her mother was waiting.

"These preserves are to die for, mom. Just wait until you try them." She said with a smile as she placed the plate down on the table and sat across from Karen.

Karen eagerly reached for a roll and placed it on a napkin in front of her "You eat like kings here." She said as she bit into the bread. "Mm, wow this is amazing So, where's Alex this morning?"

"Oh, he's still sleeping. He doesn't have any duties until eleven," Theresa replied, taking a roll and biting into it herself.

"Oh, okay." Karen nodded.

"You should see what he painted on the wall in his roo-, well, our room. It's a-"

Karen furrowed her brow. "You showed me your room, there was nothing on the wall."

"Oh, well, that's _my_ room. We still have our own rooms. We sleep together every night, but switch back and forth whenever we feel like it." Theresa swallowed her fatty piece of roll hard.

Karen slowed her chewing. "Huh, that's... interesting. Never heard of a couple doing that before. Why not pick one permanently?"

Theresa let out a growl inside of her head. "Well, I like mine and he likes his. And the rooms here aren't that big, and so if we combined all of our stuff into one room, it'd make the room way too small."

Karen laughed as if Theresa words were the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "Oh, lord. Trust me, men don't need at least half the things they think they do. Once you get rid of all his crap, you'll have plenty of room."

_I can't fucking believe this._

Theresa figured it would have been impossible to have expected her mother to have totally changed from the way she had been before the turn. She expected some of this, some nitpicking at her choices, but this was the same kind of conversation they'd had time and time again before the virus.

It hurt her, hurt her that after everything, after the glee she knew they both felt upon their reunion, that Karen was still the same person she had always been. Theresa wanted her there, to have her mother back, hoping they could turn this into a fresh start. And therefore she decided that she would have to confront Karen about this problem. Being blunt with her mother was something she had rarely ever done despite her ability to be blunt with nearly anyone else. Karen had always possessed the ability to make Theresa feel smaller than she knew she was. But maybe now, since she had to confront her head-on and tell her the harshest truth she'd ever have to tell her, she can try and mend these problems. She'd faced far scarier things after all.

Theresa glanced down at her wristwatch and saw the time was 9:34, telling her that it was time to go wake up Alex to remind him that he had to get up in a hour. Alex could be exceedingly difficult to wake and could sleep though the battery-powered alarm clock they used, he often needed Theresa's assistance in waking.

"Yeah well, anyway, I just remembered I left my sunglasses in my room, gonna be another bright day," Theresa lied, not wanting to hear any comment about Alex's lack of being a morning person.

"Okay then, I'll meet you in the reception hall," Karen said. The two had decided that they would together erase Karen's name off the memorial of people lost before the Siege.

"You remember how to get there?"

"Through there then take a left and the second door on the right," she replied.

Theresa stood up. "Yep, I'll be right there," she said before turning and heading back toward her room.

_'Men don't need at least half the things they think they do. Once you get rid of all his crap, you'll have plenty of room,'_ Theresa reflected on her mother's words as she walked.

_Right, because surely Theresa's latest loser boyfriend's possessions couldn't possibly be important and why would she respect that anyway? _She thought sarcastically, dreading the reveal more and more.

When she reached her room, she opened the door to find Alex fast asleep on his side, covers just reaching his waist.

Theresa moved over to the bed, leaned down and shook his shoulder. "Alex, it's nine-thirty," she said, he didn't move. She decided to have one last joke before the impending unfunny conversation with Karen.

"_Alex_," she began mockingly imitating Gareth's voice, "you have to wake up. These sheets and your clothes were scheduled to be washed _five minutes ago_," she teased, shaking his shoulder harder. He roused slightly.

She then sat down on the bed and continued her impression. "Come on, Alex, it's been nearly _six_ minutes now, the whole day will be six whole minutes off-kilter plus the amount of time it takes to get them to the laundry room now if you don't get up." She grinned. Alex still didn't open his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Remember not to hit the snooze on the alarm in an hour." Theresa returned to her normal voice as she leaned down and gave him a peck on his cheek. She stood back up and turned to exit the room, a feeling of immense dread coming over her, washing away her amusement over her and Alex's inside joke.

She didn't know which she dreaded more, telling Karen the facts of Terminus or telling her in no uncertain terms, to cut the crap when it comes to her passive-aggressive digs. She thought it was ridiculous, pathetic even, that she was still scared of standing up to her mother. She had been able to butcher people, twice, without any fear. She had killed a fifteen year-old because he'd made her feel powerless, but her mother; it was as if part of her pre-turn self had returned, and not in the way that would be welcome.

Theresa made her way out the door and to the reception hall, becoming confused when she didn't find Karen there.

"Gina? Have you seen my mom?" Theresa asked.

"Yeah, she was here then she went off that way." Gina pointed to the left, which was the direction of the church.

Theresa grew alarmed. "You didn't stop her?"

"She said she had to take a leak, why would I stop her, girl?"

"_Damnit_," Theresa said through gritted teeth as she shuffled off in the direction Gina had pointed.

_Well, if she found the church then that might actually be the perfect place to get it over with._

She quickly made her way through several rooms and hallways before finally coming to the door in front of the church. She exhaled deeply and pulled open the door to find her mother standing in the middle, her back turned.

"Mom?" Theresa called.

Karen quickly whipped around. "What the hell is this place? What happened here?"

"You really want to know?" Theresa asked, stepping forward slowly.

"Yes... I... why didn't you show this to me?" Utter confusion painted Karen's features.

"We were waiting for the right time, and I guess that time is now." Theresa thought she'd at least get several more hours before she had to do this, but she thought maybe it was best to rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later.

"Don't talk in riddles." Karen's tone grew firmer as she approached her daughter.

"Well, um..." Theresa began, terrified of having to say such things to her mother, "men came, a lot of them. Well, not as many as there were of us but they took care of that." Theresa focused on her mother's inquisitive eyes, despite wanting to cower away and avoid them. "And they took it from us, took it over and locked us up and... starved us, killed a lot of us who tried to fight back. Like Gareth and Alex's dad, who used to lead this place. They killed him first, he didn't die from a bite. And me, and Mary and the other girls, they..." She saw her mother's face fall, assuming she knew what she was going to say. "They raped us. All of them I think."

Karen's face crumpled upon hearing the words and tears welled in her eyes. "Oh... Theresa..." she said with a sharp edge of pain in her voice. She quickly stepped forward and placed her hand on Theresa's wrist.

Theresa pulled her arm away and stepped back, making Karen appeared puzzled. "And so you know what we did? We got out, we fought back and we killed them. But it wasn't over, not yet. We were _so_ hungry and _so_ weak. We had just enough left in us to do one more thing after we took it back. Gareth, before we got out, he told us what to do and we did... we _ate_ them, those men." Theresa's hands shook, but her voice was strong.

Disbelief and horror struck her mother's face. "No..., no, no..." She backed up several steps,

Theresa's reluctance to speak these words to her now erupted from her mouth, "We ate every one except for two. One died in the traincar and turned, and so we chained up his walker in a room. Sometimes we even feed it scraps from people that we eat. And the other one, that_ fucking animal_ who lead them, we keep in one of the cars. He's pretty much insane now, it's really funny, actually. But that's not all..." she paused, feeling her confidence falter from the way her mother was looking at her.

''Please, please don't tell me what you fed me is... Theresa, please don't tell me you still do that. _Please_," Karen pleaded as she clasped her hands together.

"After that, we realized it worked, that we could do it to people who came in. There was nothing left,_ nothing_. They'd taken everything and even before they came, we were going hungry. We had vegetables we could grow, flour to make bread but it wasn't enough, it's still not enough. And the animals, they're not like they were in the beginning. Most of the walkers and people have taken care of them and squirrels aren't exactly dinner for more than thirty people." She explained, begging to a god she didn't believe in for her mother to understand.

"What the fuck did they do to you to make you okay with this!?" Karen yelled.

"What did they do? They're my family, they didn't _make me_ do anything. I agreed when Gareth and Alex told me what their plan was and after that, when we got out, I agreed then." Theresa swallowed roughly.

"What in god's name gives you the right!?"

"Rights? There's no such thing as rights anymore. I don't give a fuck about a stranger's rights because you know what? I can't afford to, not anymore."

"No, _no_. They brainwashed you. My daughter isn't a _cannibal_." Karen spoke the last word with such revulsion that it made Theresa wince.

"Your daughter _is_ a cannibal."

"No, you're not. We can get out, you and me can run." Karen's face became illuminated with hope. "You know this place, you can get us out and you won't have to do this anymore." She offered with a small smile.

"No, we can't. This is my home and it can, it can be yours too." She stepped forward.

"I'm gonna be sick." Karen placed her hand over her stomach.

Theresa felt an anger wash over her. "No, look at this!" She gestured to the names on the floor, making her mother's face jerk up. "You see this one? Brittany Rose. They raped her with the broken end of a broom handle, it made her bleed internally and she died and then she turned."

Karen's face softened a small bit. "Theresa, I don't w-"

"Just listen! And this one, Michael Ellwood. He was Gareth and Alex's father, he was the first one who wanted to make this sanctuary, to help people. People like me. And you know what happened to him? The leader of those fucks drove a fucking sword through his neck and then chopped off his arm because 'let's see how sharp this thing really is.' And these," she stomped over to the edge of the circle, "Priscilla Munoz and Brian Munoz, mother and son. Brian was actually lucky enough to have died four days after they invaded, from a simple shot to the head because they thought he was 'annoying.' Then a little bit after we took it back, Priscilla put a bullet in her head because of it. Now really, _really_ try and tell me about 'rights' now." Her pulse pounded in her ears and she felt as if she might run out of breath.

Karen's face had drained of color as she moved her eyes slowly across the floor. "I'm sorry this happened to you," She said without looking up.

Theresa exhaled a breath of relief. "Then you understand why, why we have to do this. Why we ha-"

"No, I meant I'm sorry that you've become this person." Karen looked back up at her daughter, the fear on her face had been replaced by sadness and grief.

Theresa's heart sank. "I'm still me. I mean I, I love you and I love Alex and I... I..." she trailed off, a sob building in her throat.

"I love you too, but I don't see _you_ anymore. This isn't something you can't come back from."

"Really? You're really going to choose strangers over me? Over yourself? God, mom... we can... we can get past all our problems here. I know you don't like Alex and the things you've been saying about him and us have been pissing me the fuck the off, but we can fix that. I want to." Theresa allowed the sob to escape her throat.

Karen remained silent.

"If you say no, I can't stop what happens next," she warned.

"How are you any different from the rotters?" Karen slowly shook her head.

"We're not fucking rotters, we-" Theresa's sentence was cut off by the creak of the door opening.

Gareth stepped in slowly, Karen turned around and flinched at the sight of him.

Gareth let the door fall shut behind him and moved forward several steps, making Karen take one step back. "Karen, I was listening in, sorry for the invasion of privacy but, you know she's right. You can be one of us, learn how to repair yours and Theresa's relationship. And trust me, when you get to know Alex, you'll really like him, there's no one better left in the world to love your daughter. And Mary, my mom, you could be friends. I know how ugly what we do is, we don't like doing it, we didn't wake up one day and say 'hey what the fuck let's start eating people.' We were backed into a corner and there was only one way out and we took it. I promise you that you'll be safer here and more at home than anywhere else in the world. And you know you can trust us because we're already family in a way, right?"

Theresa exhaled, thankful for Gareth's brilliant way with words. She could easily imagine him being a fantastically successful and manipulative politician.

Karen stayed silent for a few moments. Moments which seemed to last ages rather than seconds, just how Theresa had felt time slow when she had raced into her mother's arms.

"How do you do _it_? You know, _kill_ them?"Karen asked sternly.

Gareth had clearly anticipated the question. "Well, we put them in the traincars you saw out back. We feed them, give them water, give them pots to use as toilets. Then when we need them, we take them out and put them in front of a through. We hit them in the head first so they'll be unconscious when we bleed them out, it's more humane that way. After that, we stab them in the head so they won't turn. Then we strip them and-"

"Stop it!" Karen screamed, her curiosity turning back into terror. "I can't hear anymore of this... I can't believe you_ fed it to me!"_ She practically shrieked the last four words. Theresa's eyes had filled with tears and several had fallen down her cheeks. She knew her mother wouldn't agree.

"Karen, think of it this way," Gareth's voice rose, "in the wild, if a mother bear lose-"

"No! Shut _up!"_ Karen then sprang forward, racing toward the exit behind Gareth. Theresa knew her mother must know it was pointless now, that she'd never get out, that people had gathered outside and were ready to take her. They couldn't let her go, they could never let anyone go, even someone's family. One exception and the whole system breaks down, they had agreed on it in the early days.

_'Can't go back.'_ They _could_ never go back, never get past the utterly horrified look Theresa had seen her mother giving her, the same look she'd given the first walker she'd ever laid eyes on. There's the kind of fear that Theresa saw Alex had of Gareth, that he could live with, despite the difficulties it placed on their relationship. But Alex wouldn't run in terror from Gareth, not like Karen was doing from her. This was a different kind of fear, a primal one. The primal fear that the prey in the wild feel when they're being cornered by a predator. Theresa knew they couldn't get past that; her mother was the cattle.

"Mom! Please!" Theresa pleaded, despite knowing the futility of the situation.

Karen passed Gareth, who made no attempt to stop her, pulled open the door and was immediately grabbed by several people from outside. "No! Get off me!"

Theresa lost control of her body and began to frantically run toward the door, panic building in her. Her instinct to save her mother overtook her despite the fact that she knew she'd allow it to happen anyway.

Gareth blocked her, grabbing her upper arms with his hands. "No, no, Theresa, you don't have to see it, okay?" He leaned down to look directly in her eyes as she squirmed and struggled in his grip. Her face buckled and her jaw trembled as she kept her head turned toward the door, listening to her mother being restrained.

Gareth leaned over to meet her eyes, blocking her view of the exit. "Theresa, look at me," he said. She did, finding calm and certainty in his eyes. She lost control of her body once more and embraced him tightly, wrapping her arms under his and resting her hands on his shoulders. Gareth returned the embrace, firmly but not too tightly, his arms around her upper back.

"I'm so sorry," Gareth said softly as she wept onto his shoulder. She'd never hugged him before, she half-expected him to either push her away or cringe during the whole thing, but he stood there and let her cling to him for dear life.

"I thought she'd join, I thought she..." Theresa sobbed into his shoulder. "Don't put her in a trainca-" She jerked her head up to Gareth.

"We're not, she's not making any stops."


	14. Cut

**A/N:**

I've been waiting to get Alex stoned for AGES. FINALLY IT HAPPENS.

And hey, more reviews and or suggestions would be really, really appreciated.

* * *

><p>"No! This thing is hideous!" Cynthia bellowed as she chucked a blue vase filled with paper mache flowers across the rec room, creating a loud shatter as it broke against the wall.<p>

"Cynthia! Calm down, it's just a vase." Alex attempted to soothe her agitated state.

"No!" She cried as she hurled another vase, this time it hit Alex in the shoulder, breaking on impact. A shard of the glass punctured his skin an inch below the middle of his left collarbone.

"God damnit, Cynthia!" Alex yelled as the sharp pain penetrated his shoulder. He brought his right hand up to clench the fabric around the glass in an attempt to control the hot pulse of blood.

Cynthia froze and placed her hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, Alex!" She rushed over to him, beginning to cry.

Alex grimaced and backed away several steps. "Just go calm down somewhere, okay? I'll be fine, I'll go to the infirmary."

Cynthia stepped forward, trying to get a view of his injury. "No, no, no... I'm sorry! Oh my god, I don't even know what happened!" She exclaimed as tears spilled from her eyes.

Alex held his left hand up to block her from coming any closer, which caused a bolt of sharp pain to cross the wound. "Just shut up and go lie down somewhere, okay?"

Cynthia nodded weakly.

Cynthia was somewhat of an odd character, Alex nor anyone else knew how much of it was from the trauma of the Siege and how much had been there before. Alex had barely known her before the Occupation, she'd only been at Terminus for two weeks when the men came. She had the tendency to occasionally emote more than what seemed appropriate at things, like having embraced Gareth tightly for simply agreeing to take her and Albert along to Atlanta. She once cried from joy because Camille had brought her an extra pair of sheets, and had a panic attack over a slight weak spot in Terminus' fence that was easily repaired. And now, she had had a meltdown over two vases being of colors she didn't like.

Alex turned and headed toward the infirmary, not bothering to see what Cynthia was doing behind him. _"Shit_,_"_ he muttered under his breath as he still clutched the hot and throbbing wound tightly with his hand while he advanced to the room he hoped Kaylee was already in.

As he arrived to the open infirmary doorway, he found Kaylee fiddling around in a clear, plastic box that rest on one of the beds.

Kaylee turned her head to the entrance upon hearing his arrival. "Oh my god, what happened?" she asked as she picked up and set the box on nightstand next to the bed.

"Cynthia had a meltdown over the colors on a vase not bein' the right ones, got in her line of fire," Alex replied as he stepped forward to meet Kaylee.

"Oh," Kaylee replied understandably. "Well, go sit down and I'll see how deep it is."

Alex plodded over to the bed and sat down, still holding immense pressure on his wound as Kaylee readied supplies.

"Uh, you're gonna need to take your shirt off," Kaylee said as she turned around with her equipment. The demand gave Alex pause, being as he was the modest type, especially when it concerned women. But he released his hand from the glass and removed his shirt anyway, setting it to his right.

"Okay," Kaylee said as she analyzed the piece of blue glass stuck in his skin, "I don't think this is _too_ bad, looks about half an inch." She looked over the wound as she pressed a dampened cotton swab around it, absorbing bits of semi-dried blood. The cool sensation against his tender skin was as soothing as it was uncomfortable.

Alex avoided looking at the shard in his skin, the sight of considerable wounds on his own body often made him feel ill. Despite the desensitization he'd had to endure, he sill retained a bit of squeamishness. "Then why does it hurt like a mofo?"

Kaylee laughed. "Do you have a low tolerance for pain?"

_Yes._

Alex shook his head. "Oh, no. Just, you know how glass is."

Kaylee gave a smile and nodded, Alex didn't think she believed him. "So, will this need stitches?" he asked, hoping the answer would be no.

She squinted at the wound. "Uh, no. I think you just narrowly skirted that."

_Thank you, god._

"Good," Alex said as he chewed the inside of his mouth and glanced down, recalling the bright red hickey Theresa had given him on the right side of his waist the night before. He shifted in a way that he hoped would prevent Kaylee from seeing it, but she undoubtedly already had.

_Damnit, Theresa._

He was certainly glad Theresa had been feeling better enough to have so eagerly pulled him into bed when he had entered her room the previous night, but he couldn't help feeling bashful over Kaylee seeing the mark.

Alex felt terrible that he had been sleeping when Theresa's mother was carried away to the killing floor. He, like Theresa, had thought Karen was going to be told that afternoon and hadn't anticipated Allison furiously shaking him awake, telling him of what happened.

While the butchering took place, he had sat on the sofa in the reception hall with Theresa's head resting on a pillow in his lap and her feet resting on Mary's. Later, when it was done, David appeared and told them she was ready. Theresa bolted up from having been idle for at least forty minutes, raced into the kitchen where she had prepared breakfast for her mother earlier that day, and proceeded to be delivered Karen's meat.

Alex said she didn't have to eat it if she didn't want to, Gareth however, said she needed to be strong enough to fully accept the choice Karen had made and not shy away from it. Alex had instinctively agreed with Gareth's opinion, but he didn't quite like the way he had put it.

It was a somber meal, much like that of Priscilla's meat, but Theresa ate vigorously, taking a sip of water after every fourth bite like she always had. She didn't say a word throughout the meal that she shared with only Alex, Mary and Gareth. Afterwards, she took a long bath, then climbed into bed and fell asleep with her face buried in Alex's chest.

Kaylee proceeded to remove the glass shard, causing a yelp to escape Alex's throat from the pain, which he attempted to laugh off after noticing Kaylee trying to repress her amused expression. He handled the rest of the ordeal better, breathing a sigh of relief after she'd thoroughly treated the injury.

"Can't believe you didn't need help with this," Alex remarked as he patted the gauze taped over the wound.

"Truth is, I love doing this," Kaylee said as she unfurled her rubber gloves.

"You're a natural." Alex smiled.

Kaylee placed the gloves in the trash can and looked away. "_Primum non nocere_; first, do no harm," she said solemnly.

"Huh?" Alex had heard the phase before, but he wasn't sure of the relevance.

Kaylee turned back to meet his eyes. "The Hippocratic Oath. I never actually took it because I'd only been in medical school for two years, but I'd already taken it at heart."

"You feel like you broke it?"

"I don't _feel_ like I did, I_ did._"

"Yeah, but only by proxy. You've never mistreated any patient, right?"

The corners of Kaylee's mouth twitched upwards. "I taught Gavin and David and Mitch about human anatomy."

"Yeah, but in this world, you make a damn good doctor," Alex reassured with a smile, reaching over and putting his shirt back on.

Kaylee smiled, flattered. "Well, I've never actually killed anyone."

Alex's smile fell at her remark. "Well... not directly at least. You know we're all guilty of killin' 'em."

Kaylee looked down to the unswept floor and nodded. "I know, I just try and tell myself I'm..."

"Yeah, so did I at first. You just gotta accept it and focus on all the good things you can do, like heal." Alex pointed to the bloody and torn area on his shirt that rest over his wound.

"Does it really work?"

"Not all the time, but it makes it a hell of a lot easier. Trust me," Alex replied as he unseated himself from the bed and made his way to the door. "Hey, thanks for this." He gave her a nod.

"No problem," she replied, appearing comforted by his words.

Alex proceeded toward his room, seeking a clean shirt devoid of blood stains. After he retrieved one, he began to venture to the garden where Theresa had been assigned duty. The garden had been replanted over much of the mass grave from the Siege, being as it made good fertilizer.

As he strolled to his destination, pain beginning to subside in his shoulder from the dose of aspirin Kaylee had given him, he saw David holding up a plastic gallon container in front of Gavin that carried about an inch of yellowish liquid in it.

"I dare you to drink this," David said.

"No way man, that's fuckin' bile! Shit's nasty," Gavin exclaimed. Alex had no idea why they had drained bile and put it in a container, but he wasn't about to ask.

"I_ double_-dare you." David raised his eyebrows and shook the container. Gavin emitted an exasperated sigh and turned away from him.

_Goddamn morons_, Alex thought. He had to respect them for doing the dirty of dirtiest deeds for Terminus, but he didn't think of them as being the smartest of their pack. Gavin, however, could be somewhat fun, Alex felt. Despite the intimidating appearance the large, bald man had, he had once playfully picked up Kaylee and then Albert one night in the courtyard and carried them around for a short while to show them what it was like to be tall. The two really seemed to enjoy it and Alex had laughed at their antics.

Alex approached the gardening area full of sprouting vegetables that eagerly ate up the springtime weather to see Theresa pulling up carrots by their stalks, and Martin and Gina fiddling with a bag of fertilizer.

_Uh-oh._ Alex knew Martin and Gina were Theresa's least favorite people at Terminus and hoped she wasn't too cross by their presence.

"Hey guys." Alex waved at the three.

They all turned their heads to spot Alex offering them a wave.

Theresa smiled, looking relieved to see him there, and stood up. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"Uh..." He knew telling her about Cynthia injuring him would anger her, "Well, Cynthia had another meltdown and I ended up gettin' cut in my shoulder with a shard of glass when she threw a vase in the rec room."

"Whoa, damn," Martin said.

Gina simply twitched her eyebrows upwards.

"She _what?_ Where is it?" Theresa trotted forward to meet him.

Alex pulled the sleeve on his shirt down to reveal the injury covered in gauze. "Kaylee patched me up."

"Fucking bitch," Theresa spat.

Alex pulled his sleeve back over. "Theresa-"

"No, she needs to be punished for this. Crying over clean towels is one thing, but she physically hurt you! Have you told Gareth yet?"

"No, not yet."

Her eyes widened. "Why aren't you mad about this? This must hurt."

"I was mad at first but she... she's not all there."

Theresa crossed her arms. "I don't care, she needs to be punished. Lock her in her room for a few days."

"Make her have to torch the shit from the burn vat for the next week," Martin interjected as he knelt down and cut open the bag of fertilizer with a pocket knife.

"Yeah, that seems fair," Theresa said.

"We'll talk to Gareth, okay?" Alex put his hand on her shoulder.

Theresa let her arms fall back down to her sides. "Yeah, now," she said as she walked past him and began moving quickly toward Gareth's office.

Alex sped after her. "No, wait."

"Don't try and stop me, Alex," she shot back.

"No, Tess, that's not what I mean, would you just stop first?"

Theresa let out an aggravated sigh and halted. "What?" She turned around.

"I wanted to tell you that I have a surprise," he said with a giddy smile.

Her anger turned to curiosity. "A surprise?"

"Gare said it was okay if me and Mike took one of those pot plants we found. So we dried it and the leaves are all ready to be rolled."

Alex and Mike had found patches of wild marijuana plants while on a run and asked Gareth if they could take one or two back to Terminus. Gareth said yes, as apparently Alex had caught him while he was in a good mood, and Gareth told Alex he deserved to get high after not having done so since shortly after the turn. Theresa had also told Alex a while back that she'd never smoked weed and after Alex had found the plants, she said she'd like to try it if Gareth gave the okay. Alex also hoped it would help Theresa feel better after having become so depressed after the incident with her mother.

"Oh... okay, great," Theresa replied, a smile forming on her lips.

"So, tonight at ten-thirty when we're both off?"

She exhaled deeply. "Yeah, that sounds great."

"I still _cannot believe_ you've never smoked weed before."

"Well, I was never much of a party girl," she said lowly.

Alex cracked-up. "Pot isn't a party drug," he laughed.

"Why?" Theresa appeared genuinely confused.

"'Cause you can't die from doin' too much of it," He laughed again before falling serious, "Alright, I'll go talk to Gareth, you keep on pullin' up carrots, okay?" He placed his hands on her shoulders.

She nodded, her face softening. "Okay."

"Alright," he said before leaning down and kissing the top of her head. He then walked past her and headed to Gareth's office.

When he arrived, he saw the door was closed, which was very odd to him. He knocked somewhat awkwardly on the hardwood surface.

A few seconds later, Gareth opened the door with a smile that faded to disappointment upon the sight of him. "Oh, hey Alex. What are you doing here?"

"You think I was Martin?" Alex asked, realizing why the door had been shut. Alex had been told by Camille that she had heard Gareth moaning Martin's name from in the laundry room recently, Alex responded by making gagging noises and asked her to never mention it again.

"Yeah, actually. To be honest." Gareth sighed.

"Well, your rendezvous will have to wait, 'cause we have a problem," Alex said as he passed Gareth in the doorway. "Aw, no candles and rose petals?" Alex teased. He felt pleased that he finally had something to poke fun at Gareth for.

"Just tell me the problem." Gareth was irritated by his joke.

_Good._

"Cynthia happened," Alex said as he pulled down his shirt sleeve.

Gareth didn't look surprised. "What now?"

"The vases in the rec room. The colors upset her, so she threw one and then threw another and it hit me. A piece went about half an inch deep. Kaylee fixed me up."

Gareth narrowed his eyes. "Where is Cynthia now?"

"I told her to go calm down somewhere, so maybe her room."

"Oh... _dear_." Gareth rubbed his eyes. "Was she throwing it at you, or just throwing it?"

"I think she was just throwin' it. She was pretty upset after she saw a piece stuck in me."

Gareth took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, we'll need to meet on this. Pronto."

* * *

><p>A meeting on the incident had been called in the map room and everyone except three—Cynthia, Albert and Mitch—had been called in. Someone must be on watch at all times, and order states that the two parties involved in the conflict must give their side of the story separately as to identify possible inconsistencies. Since Albert had said he was in favor of whatever helped Cynthia, who had already given her side, and Mitch had already told Gareth his opinion, he had told them to stay watch while they meet.<p>

"Now, I know you guys get sick of this, but we have to read the opening of the creed, alright? Mom?" Gareth asked Mary to read the opening lines of the Terminus rules and doctrine written up after the Occupation. Gareth had decided it needed to be read before each and every meeting, no matter what it was about.

Mary cleared her throat. "Our minds and our bodies, our hearts and our souls, were torn and battered, ripped and broken, hollowed and stolen. Our minds and our bodies, our hearts and our souls will be mended and woven, reclaimed and restrung, full and our own."

"Thank you," Gareth began, "now, Cynthia has always been quite the case. We know she's had some of the hardest times dealing with everything that happened and what became of it, and she sometimes acts out, inexplicably. And until now, none of us have inflicted a bleeding wound on one another before. I know you get into fights sometimes and I've seen some bruises, and I've even take them, but we've never made each other bleed."

Gareth's mention of taking bruises from his people made Alex think of the fact that Mary had struck Gareth when he'd told her about what he'd done in Atlanta. Her nails had left a small, red mark on his face that unless you were looking for it, didn't appear much different than any red blemish most people carry on their face. But Alex noticed Gareth had let his beard grow in thicker than he normally did and in doing so, it had hidden the mark.

Despite how mad Alex had been at Gareth, and still was to a degree, he felt genuinely bad for him when he heard their mother had slapped him. Alex hated to be a source of conflict and definitely didn't want anyone getting hurt because of him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Theresa broke in, "but she needs to punished. I don't care if she's fragile, that's no excuse," she said firmly.

"Yeah, unbelievably, I agree with her," Martin chimed in. "I mean, when Albert clocked me, I was askin' for it. Alex didn't do a damn thing."

Theresa expressed an ounce of pride at the fact that Martin was actually on her side.

"As the man who was actually attacked in this, can I say somethin'?" Alex asked. Gareth held his hand out to signal yes.

"Cynthia was over mumblin' about the damn vases, and she does that sometimes so I brushed it off and kept rearrangin' stuff. Then I heard her yell from behind me somethin' about it lookin' ugly as sin. And you know how she gets, so I told her it's just a vase and we'll move it if it bothers her, but then she lost it and threw the thing across the room. And when she threw the second one, she wasn't throwin' it _at_ me, she was just _throwin'_ it. She wasn't even lookin' at me when she threw it. So for her case, I'm pretty sure this wasn't about me."

"Alex," Theresa began from beside him, "she _cut you. _Made you _bleed_, made Kaylee have to _pull a shard of glass out of your skin._ It doesn't matter if she didn't _mean to_, it _happened_."

"Yeah," Greg agreed.

"Seriously," Maddie added.

"Yeah," Kaylee spoke up, "I saw the wound up close and if you could see it that close, then you'd know that it's not something that needs a slap on the wrist."

"We don't issue corporal-" Gareth began.

"I know we don't," Kaylee clarified, "but there has to be something else. Give her extra work hours, make her glue back together the vases, have her be the one to clean and change the gauze on Alex's shoulder until it heals."

"I'm for all three, if not more," Theresa remarked.

Alex sighed. "Theresa-"

"Alex, come on. She _cut you_." Theresa yanked down Alex's sleeve to reveal the wound.

Alex felt a flicker of annoyance. "Tess-"

"Would any of you want to give Cynthia a slap on the wrist if she did _this_ to you?" Theresa circled her vision around the group. Most people shook their heads no and a few gave words of agreement.

Alex nudged Theresa's hand away, pulled his shirt back up and turned his eyes to her intent face. "I didn't say she should be let off, okay? Just put down your pitchfork."

Theresa grit her teeth hard and crossed her arms, refusing to look back at him.

More talk ensued, many people expressed a desire to see Cynthia punished, while also wanting to offer some way to assist in her ongoing distress and outbursts that had become more frequent as of late.

"Clean his wound until it heals, no rec room time for a week," Mary declared their final decision. "And I will talk to her about all her... issues," she added.

Gareth turned his gaze to Theresa. "Is that enough for you, Theresa?"

Theresa nodded. "Yes," she replied placidly.

Gareth then turned and pointed his finger at Kaylee. "And Kaylee, you'll show Cynthia just how to primp and coif his wound, right?"

Kaylee nodded.

"Okay then, we have it decided then. Meeting adjourned," Gareth proclaimed as he slapped his hand on the table he leaned up against.

Alex turned to Theresa as the people began to disperse. "Tess, you know I wasn't tryin' to-"

Theresa held her hand up. "I know, I know. You just aren't apt for picking up your pitchforks, which... I like, but... what if the shoe were on the other foot and_ I_ was the one who got a vase tossed at them?"

Alex imagined it, and he felt anger rise up inside him at the thought of Cynthia injuring Theresa. But he also had a definite pang of sympathy for Cynthia and what caused her to act the way she did, he'd certainly want her punished if it had been Theresa she'd injured, but sans Theresa's attitude.

"You bet I'd be pissed. But damn, we're all lucky we don't toss shit around just because we feel bad, or cry because we got clean sheets. We're all warped in our own ways, it's just more visible on the outside in her case."

Theresa was silent, she looked down, contemplative. "I know, I was there." She raised her eyes to Alex's. "It's just... you know how overprotective I am and it just..." She exhaled, unsure how to finish her sentence.

Alex wrapped his hand around her forearm. "Hey, we'll both feel better later tonight when we get stoned. Just focus on that."

Theresa smiled wide. "Yeah, okay."

"So..." Gareth interrupted, having approached the two.

The two turned to him. "'So?'" Alex returned.

Gareth smirked. "So, the prodigal stoner son returns."

"What, you want some?" Alex offered, genuinely wishing he could experience seeing Gareth high again. Marijuana influence had always made Gareth very mellow and uncharacteristically, at a great loss for words.

"No, no not this time. Maybe some other time if I'm ever feeling spontaneous."

Alex sighed, amused. "Man, that's your problem. You can't_ plan_ spontaneity."

Gareth figured it was true, he had thought carefully about whether or not to 'spontaneously' knock everything off the table in the map room and seduce Martin. He almost began to tell him of the incident between himself and Martin in the laundry room and how it was the most impulsive thing he'd done since he couldn't remember, but he knew Alex and Theresa would not want to hear about his sexual escapades.

"Can and will," Gareth replied. "And Theresa, I'm sorry my baby brother is corrupting you."

_Baby brother._ Alex hated when he called him that.

"You know, that whole spiel doesn't work being that I'm old enough to be _your_ big sister._ I'm_ old enough to corrupt _you_," Theresa replied with an upturn of the corner of her mouth.

_God, I love you, Tess._

* * *

><p>"Why do we have to sit on the floor?" Theresa asked Alex who had laid two pillows out for both of them beside his bed.<p>

"It's tradition to get high on the floor, come on, you gotta do it this way the first time," Alex replied.

Theresa rolled her eyes playfully. "Okay, okay fine," she said as she seated herself on a pillow, crossing her legs.

"Oh, wait. I gotta do this without pants, another tradition," Alex said as he began unbuckling his jeans.

Theresa giggled. "Really?"

Alex felt overjoyed from having made her giggle, she only ever did it for him. And she hadn't done it since Karen's death.

"Yeah, it's how I used to do it at least two-thirds of the time," he replied as he pulled off his pants, folded and then placed them in his clothes drawer

He then picked up a former Altoids case from the top of his dresser and thought of a fact he hoped would also amuse her thoroughly. "Oh, just F.Y.I., I can't get it up when I'm stoned. I'm not sure why, but I can't to save my life," he said as he sat down on the pillow next to her.

She giggled again. "Well there goes my wish to finally fulfill my fantasy of doing a stoned guy in his room while his mom's sleeping down the hall." She grinned.

"Yeah, sorry about crushin' your dreams." Alex grinned back at her as made himself comfortable and crossed his legs as well, happy to be out of his daywear and in a simple shirt and boxers.

"Did you already roll it?"

"Hell yeah I did," Alex responded as he popped open the lid to reveal a rolled joint and a Bick lighter.

"God, I've never seen you so excited about anything." Theresa's tone was half humorous and half serious.

"'Cause I've never _been_ so excited," Alex joked as he took the joint and lighter in hand. "Alright, now watch me." He scooted further towards Theresa and held the end of the joint between his lips; she watched him intently.

Alex then lifted up the lighter and flicked it with his thumb, causing the flame to erupt and immediately catch on the end of the joint. As the end lit up, he sucked gently on the part just past his lips, instantly feeling a strong rush of nostalgia.

As he further inhaled, the sour taste and aroma pleasantly filled his airways while a scratch built in his throat. He then brought the joint back down to hold it by his lap. "See? It's-" Alex's sentence was cut off as he began coughing. "Oh god, I'm-" He continued to attempt to speak through his hacking as he covered his mouth with his free hand.

"Wow, that looks like fun," Theresa said sarcastically.

"It's worth it," Alex rasped as he began to get a hold on his coughing fit. "Your turn." He passed the joint to Theresa. She took it between her fingers and turned it around, analyzing it.

"Don't think," Alex advised as he reached for the thermos of water next to him and took a large swig before setting it back to his side.

Theresa nodded and did just as Alex had, she slid it between her lips, flicked the lighter, setting the end of the joint ablaze, and slowly inhaled. Alex eagerly anticipated her reaction, ready to hand her the thermos if she had a rough coughing fit.

"Whoa, hey slow down," Alex said as she inhaled until she couldn't breathe in anymore. She held her breath, her face turning red while Alex held his hands out as if he might have to catch her if she fell. She then exhaled a large amount of smoke from her mouth and began coughing into her fist.

"Oh my god, that is _disgusting,_" she stated as Alex handed her the thermos and she gulped down a large amount of liquid.

"You wanna keep goin'?" Alex asked, desperately hoping she did.

Theresa nodded as she continued to hold the bottle to her mouth.

"Okay then, can I get it back?" Alex reached over to her left hand which still held the drug.

Theresa handed him the joint back and he took another toke, finding it was easier than his previous inhale. He figured his body wasn't used to it anymore and this round would be especially intense, despite the mediocrity of the plants. And the fact that he was doing it with Theresa made it feel especially fervid, like they were exploring new territory together. He liked it.

After a few moments, Theresa asked for another hit and she reacted in the same way she had the first time, but as they passed it back and forth, she began to mellow and enjoy the feeling. The feeling of serenity and of seeing things in four dimensions, every color, breath and touch heightened.

Alex eventually ended up lying against the side of the bed with his legs opened just enough to allow Theresa to lay her back up against his chest as she rest her head on his shoulder and entwined her hands with his. The pain in Alex's shoulder had become nearly non-existent, something he was very grateful for as it had been bothering him more than he had let on.

Theresa's warmth seemed to seep straight out of her back and into Alex's chest as if there was a bridge in between them. It felt especially intimate, more so than usual when they'd cuddle, like it'd been magnified.

"You still awake?" Alex asked softly.

"Mm-hm, no way I'm falling asleep." Her eyes were closed, but she was wide awake and gave his hands a squeeze to communicate the fact. He hoped she would be able to sleep soundly later and not be interrupted by the memories of her mother yelling for Maddie, Greg and Mitch to let go of her, or of what happened during the Siege. Theresa had told Alex that her still habitual nightmares from the Occupation had gotten worse since she'd lost her mother, as if the demons that haunted her had cheered and cackled when they saw she was vulnerable and decided to strike while the iron was hot.

He released his right hand from hers and trailed it up her thigh, eventually making it to the hem of her off-white, baby doll t-shirt, rubbing the material back and forth through his fingers. He was enthralled by its softness and his sudden appreciation of its egg white color. His mind flashed him an abrupt recollection of his old college dorm and more specifically, the dreams he'd have of it. He instinctively checked the floor beneath him, forgetting for a split second if he sat on a rug or carpet and what color it was. He saw it was a faded blue-grey rug, not any longer a plush, forest green carpet beneath his feet.

He had to briefly remind himself that he wasn't in a college dorm, he was in his room in a place called Terminus that sat on the edge of the world as well as in the center of it, pulling in everything around it. He _had_ just gotten stoned, but he had a girl with an egg white shirt in his lap, not a Macbook Pro with an egg white frame; he definitely preferred the former.

"Hey, got the munchies yet?" Alex asked into her ear through the dark hair that covered it.

"No, not really. Is that unusual?" Theresa replied, still with eyes shut.

"It's different for everyone, but I'm startin' to want those Hershey's Kisses behind the books."

"Ugh, and disturb by complete and utter comfort?" Theresa mock whined.

"Yeah, sorry," Alex said as he bent his legs and began to pull himself to his feet. Theresa leaned forward to give him room and he stood up, then stepped over to the bookshelf and reached his hand behind several paperbacks.

"_Yes_," Alex said triumphantly as he pulled out the bag of candy, made his way back over to Theresa and placed the other pillow to her right as he then sat down.

Theresa extended her hand outwards to him. "Yeah, give me one of those to get that horrible taste out of my mouth."

Alex pulled one out and dropped it in her palm. "You'll start to like it after a while."

She unwrapped it and took a bite. "Am I doing this again?"

He slowly undid the foil on his. "Do you not want to?"

She spread the chocolate around in her mouth, feeling a warmth engulf her chest at how good it tasted. "No, I didn't say that. Just hadn't thought about it."

"Well, there's plenty more where it came from." Alex placed a whole piece in his mouth, "I don't know how Gare will feel about maybe plantin' some in the garden, and my mom, oh man. I mean, she was glad I wasn't doin' meth or heroin back in the day, but she never liked the stuff. One time she-"

"I really thought she'd stay," Theresa interrupted, staring straight ahead. Alex had hoped she'd eventually officially talk to him about her mother, being as she'd said nothing of it since she was eaten and hadn't shed a tear that he knew of since she'd embraced Gareth in the church. He had tried to get her to talk about it several times, but she told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to him hover.

"I mean," she continued, "I feel like a idiot. I should've known that it would have been out of character for her to say yes. And... god, Alex, _the way she looked at me..._"

"Go on." He swallowed his candy.

"I can't stop picturing it, the look she had in her eyes. I keep walking around and thinking about it. I look in the mirror and try to imagine being her and being terrified of the person I see looking back at me, scared enough to run. And god, that's what I've been thinking about most of this time. Not the fact that Gavin and David sawed off parts of her body and then burned them, the fact that she was _so scared of me_." She fidgeted and pressed her hands together as she spoke.

Alex placed his hand on her uneasy ones, ceasing their movement. "She was scared of us, not just you."

Theresa turned her distressed face to his. "I know. And I know we_ are_ scary people, but it's never bothered me before. Not until I saw that look in _her_ eyes. And her fear of all of _this_." Theresa lifted her arms up, gesturing to the room and Terminus as a whole.

Alex nodded along. "This here, right now, isn't anything to be scared of. I wish your mom could've seen that. Like when Hayley and Allison were freaked and then they saw us all havin' dinner and saw us smilin' and just... bein' thoroughly _unscary_ and they got it. How and why it's all worth it."

"Yeah, but my mom was just one of those people not meant for this world, or at least for _our_ world."


	15. Infirmary

**A/N:** Well, this is the second to last chapter before I wrap this up and move on to the post-destruction of Terminus (second part of this series). It probably seems kind of sudden, but I'm running low on ideas for interesting things to do in this prequel and BURSTING JUST BURSTING with ideas for the hunters and Rick and co. post-Terminus.

There's still a lot of time in between where this fic will end and the next will pick-up, so there will be a time jump (there have been time jumps all throughout this fic, but that's because the timeline is so long a lot of it would have been boring filler if I included every single day or something).

** To the guest reviewer:** thank you so so so so much for your kind words and I'm thrilled you enjoyed the last two chapters. And I'm so glad you requested more time between Gareth and Alex because I'm a huge sucker of their dynamic/dysfunction. I didn't get around to getting a LOT of them together in this chap, but I definitely will.

And as always, more reviews and or suggestions are very appreciated.

* * *

><p>Mary had kept hold of the bible her co-worker had gifted to her on the first Christmas she spent divorced from Michael. The written <em>Mary B.<em> on the back of the front cover of the book, instead of _Mary B.E_., nearly made her wince when she first laid eyes on it. She had gone from being Mary Billingsley-Ellwood to Mary Billingsley that year, easier to write, but harder to have to say aloud.

She had always needed _something_ in her life to have faith in. When she was a child, it was a Christian god as inscribed in her by her parents. In her teenage years, her interest in the Methodist church began to falter and she took to something new which was public service. In college, she majored in social services and found a great deal of comfort in assisting those in need. It was there she met Michael who trained to be an architect and ended up falling madly in love with him. They eventually married and had their first son, Gareth Christopher Ellwood, making her feel more whole than she ever had before.

Still, even to that day, she didn't know what it was that had driven her into the arms of a stranger that fateful night when Michael was own of town. Mary had only known the man's name was Stephen along with several other trivial facts. He had smelled like whiskey and cigarettes, told her that her husband must be a bastard for leaving her alone with a nearly year and a half old baby who she had dropped off with Patricia so she could have a night out by herself. It was a night she _thought_ she would spend just enjoying being out of the house.

She received the bible from her friend in social services ten years later when Mary had told her she was feeling lost once again, that even her work and her children weren't enough to keep her grounded, something she felt extraordinarily guilty for. The bible helped somewhat, but it also seemed passé to her. Not just in a sense that it had been written two thousand years ago, but that its relevance had been worn out in her life. Lost to her childhood and the fond memories of the children's choir she sang in and the macaroons she, her sister and mother baked for their fellow churchgoers for the first Sunday of each month.

The same sense of archaic futility struck her after the world had gone belly-up. And after the occupation, the beliefs she held and adhered to in her work suddenly became preposterously and laughably outdated. Nothing after the turn was concrete and unmistakable, not until Terminus. Not until Gareth planned the hardest thing they'd ever have to do, kill and eat their captors. Shaky was her faith at first, as was everyone's, but the moment she saw Gareth holding a knife to one of the men's throats, she knew they had something worth fighting and worth living for.

She may not be able to sleep every night, and not every day was a good one, but she could wake up and know her cause is true and worth something greater than herself. The Terminus creed, the one they all pitched in and wrote after the Siege, rested in her old bible stapled to a center page. Her faith may have changed its source, but she had held onto to that bible desperately as a memento of the past. And each night it lay on her nightstand in plain view, always there when she awoke, always here to remind her.

Today Mary had another cause, three of their comrades had fallen ill with what they hoped was a simple twenty-four hour vomiting bug. David, Theresa and Mike were all in the infirmary being watched and cared for by she and Kaylee. David was the most ill, he hadn't been able to keep any liquid down since an unsettling amount of time. But they were certainly grateful that they had so many medical supplies stockpiled in a world where most people have to deal with wounds via a creek water-washed shirt and a bottle of rum.

"You think maybe it was Joey and Peter?" Mary asked Kaylee of two of their new fellow Terminants while their three patients slept in their beds. The two fresh members had mentioned they were sick several days before they arrived at Terminus.

"They weren't sick when they got here," Kaylee contemplated as she wiped the sweat from David's forehead with a hand towel, "but their clothes probably had contaminated fluids on them. Of course, could've been from one of our meals or even from touching walker slime."

A pained sound then erupted from David's throat, followed by a groan of malaise as he awoke into partial consciousness.

Mary moved over to stand beside Kaylee. "Still too bad to hold down an aspirin?" she asked.

Kaylee nodded. "I'm not gonna try, besides, that's not what he really needs right now."

"Intravenous fluids?"

Kaylee shook her head, removing the towel and turning to Mary. "Mm, not quite yet. Let's try the solution again."

Mary placed her hand on her hip. "He's like a sponge that's been squeezed dry."

Kaylee breathed out a laugh. "That's a way to put it." She then walked over to a pitcher half-full of the oral rehydration solution they'd mixed up and poured some into a small, plastic cup.

Mary then saw David's eyes flutter open and grow wide, seemingly staring at something behind her.

"Oh... god, _god_ _no_," David whined.

"David, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna rehydrate you," Mary assured as she leaned over his bed.

"David," Kaylee said as she stepped over with the cup in her hand, "you're gonna be fine. We just have to-"

"Jesus, god forgive me, _please, please!"_ David shouted frantically as he began to twitch and shake.

"David, just hang _on_, okay?" Mary tried to calm him as she felt an unease build in her, she realized his dehydration and fever must have become severe enough to cause him to hallucinate.

Kaylee placed her free hand on his shoulder and attempted to calm him became while she became visibly shaken. "You need to drink this, you need to drink it, it'll help." She held the cup out in front of him.

"Oh my god, oh my god..." David's voice grew weaker as his eyes closed and his body stilled.

"Oh,_ shit_," Mary exclaimed, becoming frozen in place for a brief moment. She then reached down and grasped his wrist to feel for a pulse, she felt none. "He's dead," She proclaimed, fear gripping her chest.

Kaylee simply stared wide-eyed at David's body, clearly shocked he had died from the illness. "Um... we have to... oh fuck," she stammered, raising her hand to her forehead.

It had just dawned on both of them that the sickness was much more serious than they had initially thought, it had just taken out a healthy, thirty-four year-old man.

_Jesus, god forgive me,_ _please, please!_ Mary's head rang with David's dying words, surprised she'd heard them coming from someone as irreligious as him. She didn't have to guess what he was begging for forgiveness for, but David had never expressed any remorse for his actions as a Terminus butcher. Or if he did, he didn't let anyone know.

"Is Gareth awake yet?" Kaylee asked.

"I... I think so. He gets up pretty early and uh, I'll go-"

"No," Kaylee broke in, "we have to isolate ourselves. We've probably all already been exposed, but it's better safe than sorry."

Mary nodded, trying to keep a hold on the dread that had taken root in her. "Then what? Bang on the door and ask someone to go tell Gareth?"

Kaylee shrugged. "If that's what it takes," She said as she stepped over to David's bedside table and set down the cup of solution, then began rummaging through a clear, plastic box that rest on it. She then pulled out a letter opener in a cloth case.

"That in there for cases like these?" Mary asked.

"Can never be too prepared, that's what Gareth always says," Kaylee replied as she removed the long silver blade from the case and stepped back to David's bedside.

Mary walked over and stood by Kaylee's side, in case she needed support.

Kaylee turned her head to Mary. "I can do this, Mary. Don't worry." She then raised the letter-opener and plunged it into David's head.

Mary watched Kaylee's expression as she performed the deed and saw no bit of squeamishness or sadness on her face, but she did see worry. The possibility of an outbreak of another sort had crossed their minds in the past, and they knew the devolution of hygiene would only make the probability of spread even worse, as well as the lack of modern day medical care.

After Kaylee pulled the letter opener out, she cleaned the blood and brain matter off with a cloth, placed it back into its pouch and into the plastic box.

"Kaylee," Mary stepped over behind the other woman, "he's not edible, is he?"

Kaylee turned around. "Well, if we somehow got it from our meat, then we shouldn't have him. And if we didn't, or if it would cook out, Gavin and Mitch would have to be in close contact with his innards, no way to do that without contamination."

_No_, Mary thought. The idea of simply disposing of David like he was trash grated on her, it would be such a waste. Especially of one of the men who worked so hard to do the dirty work that keeps everyone fed. He'd want his body to be eaten, to honor his life and his service. But Kaylee was right, it would further risk infection.

Mary's face fell. "Just _waste_ him?"

Kaylee shut her eyes for a moment. "Yes. We'll have to wrap him and someone can wear the gas masks and burn him out back," She said with a sigh at the end of her sentence. Kaylee was clearly unhappy with the fact that he was unfit to be butchered as well.

* * *

><p>"Don't worry, I got Gina on Alex watch," Gareth said through the door of the infirmary.<p>

Mary knew the second Alex heard David had died from an illness that she had been exposed to and that Theresa was already sick with, he'd try and rush in in an instant regardless of the fact that he'd be exposing himself to it.

"You holding up in there?" Gareth added.

Mary nodded despite the fact that her son couldn't see her, her hands pressed up against the hard surface of the door. "Yeah, holding up just fine." Her mind flashed back to Gavin and Mitch donned with gas masks and rubber gloves transporting a dead, sheet-wrapped David out the door.

The two showed no emotion over doing so, which didn't surprise her in the least. Regardless of the fact that they may have shared a common job with the deceased, they'd been trained to ignore whatever feelings they may have. They hadn't only been chosen for the task because they knew how to properly strip a body for its meat.

"The funeral?" Mary asked of David.

There was a pause before Gareth replied, "I don't know, it's... tricky. We'll talk about it later."

Mary nodded again and let her hands fall from the door. "Okay then, you go do what you need to do. I'll be here."

"The first person who even feels the slightest bit queasy gets tossed right in here, alright?"

"Alright," she confirmed.

Gareth's departing footsteps sounded as she turned to face the room behind her. Kaylee was attempting to wipe the collected sweat from Mike's forehead and Theresa was stirring while lying on her side, having tossed the covers off of herself. Mary was unnerved at the blatant reminder that Theresa was one of the ill. She didn't like seeing her so helpless again, so miserable and so powerless. She hadn't liked seeing any of the sick that way again, but it seemed almost disrespectful that it would dare harm Theresa.

And Mary was offended at the notion that a simple virus or bacterium might possibly reduce _her_ to such helplessness and distress. Despite the fact that said helplessness was not being caused by a someone who could be strung-up for their misdeeds, the primal revulsion to being anything less than top dog anymore held strong. A little over-the-top, Mary thought, no one can be top dog over nature. After all, she knew the state of the world was nothing more than example of who the real butcher was.

Mary made her way over to Theresa and stopped before her bedside as the sick girl began to groan. Theresa's skin was dead white and sweat had matted her hair to her forehead.

"Theresa? You gonna throw up again?" Mary asked, unsure if she had been coherent enough during any of the event of David's death and his body's transportation to know how series the sickness was.

Theresa's eyes opened half-way and she fixed them on Mary's. "Keep Alex out," She murmured. Mary would have laughed at Theresa's immediate concern being of Alex's worrisome personality trait if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"We are," Mary assured. "Do you know about David?" She asked as she ran her hand through Theresa's filthy hair.

"Mhm." Theresa nodded slightly.

"His fever's the same," Kaylee interrupted from beside Mike's bed.

Mary turned to Kaylee. "At least it's not up."

"Yeah, but it's not_ down_," she said as she strolled over beside Mary with the glass thermometer in her hand. "Theresa, your turn." She held out the thermometer to Theresa's mouth.

The sound of the door opening then averted their eyes to two new arrivals, Maddie and Hayley.

"We don't feel very good," Hayley said while Maddie appeared to be on the verge of losing her lunch.

Before they could react, Alex raced past the two and halted at the end of Theresa's bed and appeared to inspect Mary's state. "Mom, you okay?" Alex said, looking her up and down before spotting Theresa on the bed beside him. "God, Tess. How is sh-"

"Alex, god damnit you were supposed to stay out there!" Mary yelled, raising her arm and gesturing it at the door. Kaylee slipped past the two and tended to Hayley and Maddie, leading them over to two unoccupied beds.

Alex ignored her remark and hurried over to Theresa's bedside across from his mother and began to brush his hand across his girlfriend's cheek and her hair off her forehead. Mary hadn't noticed until then that Theresa had nodded off again.

_God fucking damnit, Alex_, Mary thought. Although, she felt she should have known he'd find a way in regardless of whether or not he had a babysitter.

Mary glared firmly at her son. "Alex, you-"

Alex looked up at Mary, worry covering his face. "How is she?"

Mary let out a small sigh, concluding that scolding him would do no good. "She still has a fever and she's dehydrated, but she was awake a minute ago," she replied. Alex gazed back down to Theresa and continued to stroke her face. Mary noted how gently he did so, as if she were papier-mâché that would break if he pressed too hard.

She was immensely proud of him for that, for finally being able to turn his compassion to where it deserved to be, his fellow Terminants. She knew it had been especially hard for Alex, even after going through what they did, to allow his mind to fully convince his heart that the only ones deserving of his care were his own. And it hurt her, having to tell her child to stop being so empathetic, to leave the luxury of needless kindness in the old world where it belonged, but she had to.

Mary hadn't had as hard of a time as he did, which surprised her being that she had been a social worker. Her purpose every day had been to help those in need, to readily offer up compassion to anyone who needed it. That was her line of thinking in the beginning, that the new world was just another time and place in which to offer shelter to those who needed it. But she had more of a malicious side than Alex did, she hung on to anger and had always secretly enjoyed seeing people get their just desserts. She figured that may be why it was easier for her than for Alex, because she handed out her sympathies in adherence to a system while Alex did so just for its own sake.

The sudden sound of retching tore through her thoughts and she turned around to see Maddie vomiting violently onto the floor. Mary then quickly crossed the room to help, while Hayley attempted to make herself comfortable on the bed David had preciously occupied. Maddie was trembling as Mary approached and Kaylee was attempting to hold her up so she wouldn't fall into the mess she'd just made in front of her.

"Hang on, Maddie. Let's get you up here," Kaylee said as she wrapped an arm around Maddie's shoulder while Mary stood on her other side and did the same.

Mary felt something unwelcome stirring inside of her. At first she thought it was nausea, that she had finally come down with it, but as she dug deeper she realized it was a new wave of fear. Whatever this disease was, it had killed someone who had only been sick for a day and a half, had sickened four others, and had been exposed to it herself along with her son. She did figure Alex had most likely already been exposed being that he was close to Theresa, but there was a small chance that he hadn't been and she now worried that it was certain he would become ill.

"Alex," Mary threw her voice to Alex who still watched over Theresa, "she's sleeping, she doesn't need you there. Would you go and take Hayley's temperature? The thermometer is on the table next to me." She saw Alex's face turn a tad surprised, he obviously hadn't thought of being drafted into service when he'd burst through the door.

"Why can't I take my own temperature?" Hayley asked before Alex could respond.

"Can you read a glass one?" Alex asked as he obeyed and headed over to the table near his mother.

"No," Hayley admitted.

"Then that's why," he replied as he lazily grabbed the thermometer and took it over to Hayley.

"Am I gonna get that bad?" Hayley's nonchalant voice turned worried as she watched Maddie writhe on the bed while Mary and Kaylee attempted to care for her.

"Don't think about that," Alex said as he held the thermometer out to her, "just take it one minute at a time."

Hayley didn't reply, but she nodded and accepted the device and inserted it into her mouth.

Mary was glad to hear those words, she knew she needed to hear them, they were her own after all. She had given the advice to people in her counseling and had extended it to Alex and Gareth as well as everyone else during the Siege. "One minute at a time, Maddie," Mary repeated to the woman in front of her.

"One minute at a time," Kaylee joined in.

* * *

><p>Mary waited.<p>

And waited.

One minute at a time.

For the next shoe to drop, for herself to become ill, for Alex to, for Gareth to open the door and announce he's sick. She waited for the next death, moving her eyes from Maddie to Mike to Theresa to Hayley and to Allison and Connor, their newest patients.

Maddie was the worst off, she hadn't been able to keep down any fluids in at least twelve hours and her fever had only gone up. Theresa, whom Mary had to admit she was most concerned about due to their connection, seemed to be ever so slightly improved. She slept more than the others, giving Mary hope that she was healing in her unconscious state and it wasn't just wishful thinking on her behalf.

While Kaylee simply stood watch over their now mostly idle patients, Alex sat in a chair by Theresa's bed, leaned over with his head resting on her shoulder as she slept.

Mary strode over behind him and began massaging his shoulder with her right hand.

"Mom, I'm startin' to feel funny," Alex said in a low voice.

The words sent a bolt of fear through Mary, but she swallowed it, keeping the fear confined to her gut.

"And we're starting to run out of room," Mary said matter-of-factly.

Alex sat up and turned to look at his mother with doleful eyes and a face that was just a smidge pale. Mary thought in that moment how much more like his father, his real father, he looked the older he became. The same way Gareth appeared more and more like Michael as he aged.

Mary had always felt an odd sort of guilt for the fact that Alex didn't look like her or anyone in her family, let alone Michael's. As if she'd personally done something wrong and the least she could have done was to have had her product of a one-night-stand come out looking like her side of the family. She knew it was a silly thing to feel guilty for, but she couldn't help it.

She then knelt down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her cheek on the top of his head, recalling how he'd cradled her in a similar manner during the Siege.

The sound of the door opening made her flinch and release her grip on Alex, she turned to see who it was and to her horror, it was Gareth.

"Oh no," she muttered.

"I was starting to feel dizzy so..." Gareth said with a shrug, seemingly unphased, which didn't surprise Mary in the least.

Mary shuffled over to him right away, as did Kaylee.

Gareth put up his hands. "I don't need a bed, I'm-"

"Yes, you _do_," Mary said firmly.

Gareth let his hands fall back down and sighed.

"Come on Gareth," Kaylee said as she gestured her hand to the last remaining unoccupied bed at the far-left corner of the room, "let's get you all pampered." Her attempt at a joke came out flat.

Gareth didn't argue but his face grew annoyed as he proceeded to the bed which was situated next to Maddie's, Mary and Kaylee then followed him. Gareth took a long look at Maddie as he climbed onto the bed facing her, hanging his legs off the edge.

"She looks bad off," Gareth remarked, his face contemplative.

"She's about as bad as David was, right?" Alex's unexpected voice broke through Mary's train of thought, she hadn't heard him approach.

She turned to see Alex's eyes wide, worried and fixed on Gareth despite his question being about Maddie.

"Just about, yeah," Mary replied with a sigh.

"Temp time." Kaylee handed the glass thermometer to Gareth who promptly placed it in his mouth.

After the needed number of seconds had passed, Kaylee removed the thermometer from Gareth's mouth and read it, "Ninety-eight point-seven. You're good so far," she declared before setting the device on the nightstand.

"You need anything, man?" Alex asked Gareth.

Mary hadn't expected Alex to leave his place by Theresa and offer his help to Gareth, the two rarely ever interacted unless they had to. But Mary saw genuine concern in Alex's eyes at knowing Gareth was coming down with the illness which despite the context, she was glad to see.

_I guess he does still love him_, Mary thought of Alex.

Gareth narrowed his eyes at Alex, clearly not having had expected his brother to show such concern either. "No I'm, I'm fine," He assured before giving him a slight smile and adding, "How's Harley Quinn?"

Mary assumed he meant Theresa, who currently wore the shirt of the character she'd brought home from Atlanta.

Alex laughed lightly. "Um," he gave a glance over his shoulder at her resting place, "she's not as bad as Maddie, so that's somethin'."

"Maddie is the worst," Mary began, "the others aren't good, but Maddie's fever won't come down and we... we're not sure she'll make it," she explained solemnly.

"Focus on the others who need it most. And since I don't have a fever yet, I can help," Gareth said as he nudged himself off the bed.

Mary stepped in front of him. "Gareth, _no_. Over-exertion will just make things worse for you." She stared him hard in the eyes.

"I can't just sit here and be _useless._" Gareth grimaced at his last word.

Uselessness was one of Gareth's most feared afflictions, apparently more so than a potentially-fatal illness.

"We're okay for now." Kaylee's voice came out more uneasy than reassuring as she turned and looked over Maddie.

* * *

><p>"Maddie's gone," Mary informed a finally awoken and coherent enough Theresa as she sat by her bedside.<p>

Theresa had kept down the fluids they had given her since she had woken, giving her enough strength to speak, "God..." she breathed out softly.

Despite the two deaths, Mary felt hope that the epidemic was winding down. None of the other five people who had come in sick had gotten as bad as Maddie and David. Gareth was sick, but he'd remained awake and giving orders and advice, often slurred, to Kaylee and Mary who had not yet contracted the disease. Alex had also come down with it and was sleeping soundly on top a sleeping bag that rest on the floor on the other side of Theresa's bed, but neither he nor Gareth appeared to have a deathly case.

"Mom," Gareth called from across the room in a fatigued voice.

Mary sat up and made her way over to him, noting how incredibly vulnerable he looked lying on his side with the tell-tale signs of illness bogging him down. She knew he must hate that, vulnerability was something another affliction he avoided like the plague.

"Well, you think it could be from the meat?" she inquired before he spoke, a question she'd been asking herself.

Gareth expressed a small smile and shook his head. "If we don't get sick from eating people postmortem who are already infected, which apparently everyone is, then it's either cooked out or has no effect because we're just taking in what we already have. We know how to avoid salmonella and we don't eat the brain. So no, I think it got here the old-fashioned way."

"Then it was either Joey or Peter or someone we butchered," Mary concluded. She felt somewhat bad for Joey and Peter, worried people would ostracize them for possibly having unknowingly caused an outbreak. She had to admit she was already somewhat resentful if it was in fact them, but it could very well have been from their meat supply.

"I think so. Once I'm out of here, I'm going over records of our butchers and tracing this back, I want to know who all David had cut-up and ask Theresa and Mike where they've been and what they've been doing and go over their rosters." Gareth's voice was gritty, but determined as always.

Mary then ran her hand down from Gareth's temple to his jaw, like she did when he was a baby and wouldn't sleep. Like she did when he was five and had his first sick day home from school and was bed-ridden like he was now. Like during the Siege when also just like now, he was in a sickened and weakened state, but still made plans, had ideas.

She recalled how she ran her hand down his face after she'd witnessed him kill Price, experiencing pride for his strength and focus. She was extremely proud of both of her children, for their durability and their ability to adapt. But beyond that, she was proud of them for seemingly polar opposite reasons. Gareth for his leadership abilities and decisiveness and Alex for his ability to retain gentleness and caring without devolving to cattle again. She wondered what her part of that spectrum she would occupy, if she would even fit on it. She often tried to play the role of a mediator and thought she made a good one and was satisfied with that part of her cause.

Gareth didn't object to his mother's touch and smiled softly as she caressed him and returned the smile. She then moved to the other side of his face and remembered the place where she had struck him and couldn't help running her thumb across the skin where the mark had been. She noticed he'd shaved close, no long using a thicker beard to attempt and cover the mark as it had gone.

Gareth's comforted look faded. "Mom..."

Mary retracted her hand. "I'm glad it's healed."

"And since it's healed, we don't have to talk about it anymore," he said in a light tone.

"We can't pretend like it didn't happen."

"I know, I know but it's not relevant, not now."

"Our wounds are always going to be relevant, Gareth. Whether you can still see them or not."


	16. End Of The Line

"Believe me, I would help with this if I could. You know I'm a devout feminist," Gareth said with his hands rested on the table before him where he stood in the small kitchen, narrowly avoiding the dust of flour. The table was full of multiple baking supplies, as well as two loaves of bread that were rising in their pans, waiting to be baked.

"Yes, I know, I know," Mary said from across him with a smile, stirring a fresh mixture of yeast and water.

_Bread and wine: the body of Christ_, he thought of the sight.

The lack of the Terminus-style funeral had left him feeling robbed and unsatisfied. Now that the outbreak was over, Maddie and David were to be memorialized with a feast on bread and wine to symbolize their body and blood.

"We're getting low on flour, we won't be able to make this much pretty soon." Mary's smile faded as she placed a piece of tin foil over the cup consisting of the yeast and water.

Gareth nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I'm well aware. But this is for Maddie and David, the body and blood. Blasphemous as hell, but it was your idea." He shrugged. "Hey," he said as he brushed back a long strand of hair behind his mother's ear which had fallen from her ponytail, "have to be able to see what you're doing."

She smiled at his gesture and wiped a bit of the yeast mixture that had splashed her hands on a wash towel beside her.

He noticed how tired she looked and felt for her, having to do so much work after caring for sick people for days on end. She had been fortunate enough to not have become sick during the outbreak, but she appeared just as beaten as everyone else who had had the illness. He wished he could tell her not to worry about baking and go sleep, but they all had jobs to do and this was hers at the moment.

And Gareth had a job to do as well.

"Well, I'm gonna go. And if I see Gina or Chuck on the way, I'll ask them why they're so late getting here." Gareth gave one last smile to his mother and she returned a nod. He then left the kitchen and made his way through the cafeteria and out the door of the reception hall, noting the warm weather as he exited the building.

Gareth was exhausted too, his eyes burned and his limbs ached for soft sheets and silence, but his impending task was greatly important.

The further decaying walker of one of their former tormenters remained chained-up in a room near the church, occasionally fed scraps of meat that weren't edible to Terminants. They found that despite the undead's taste for something with a beating heart, if the meat was fresh enough, they would consume it as if it were from a live person. The walker would not eat jerky, however. Alex tried to one day and found the creature ignoring the fare while instead reaching desperately for his arm.

That day, they were to bring in more walkers and tie them up alongside the other and make a habit of feeding them bits of inedible remains. The burning of unneeded parts was still very effective, but they didn't want to keep using as much precious lighter fluid and gasoline to dispose of them. They figured the more they could feed to the walkers, even if a small amount, would be beneficial to fuel conservation.

Gareth passed by several people as he walked, one of whom included David's widow, Samantha. She had been mostly quiet and kept to herself after her husband's death, but had not strayed from her duties in the slightest. Gareth was proud of her for that, proud of her resilience in the face of tragedy. He recalled how he had acted after Chelsea died of a walker's bite. How he cried for long periods of time, didn't eat much and neglected a handful of his responsibilities. Now, he couldn't fathom doing such a thing, having learned that there was no time. Loss couldn't be stuffed away and forgotten, but it could compartmentalized where it could be dealt with safely.

As Gareth approached the room with the walker, he heard what sounded like Cynthia speaking from inside. He assumed she was paying one of her frequent visits to their former captor.

"...it was him, I_ know_ it was him," Cynthia's voice echoed, indicating someone else had most likely joined her.

When he stepped foot inside, he had expected to see Cynthia, but not to see her stripped down to her bra and underwear in front of the snarling creature. He also hadn't anticipated Theresa being the who had joined her. She stood off to the side of the room watching Cynthia bounce around and tease the creature while she held the other girl's discarded clothes between her folded arms.

"Cynthia?" Gareth called from behind her, eyes narrowed.

Cynthia abruptly turned around. "Oh my god, Gareth!" she shouted as she hurried over to Theresa and yanked the clothes from her arms. Theresa faced Gareth and made stern eye contact with him, which he took to mean she'd been making sure Cynthia stayed safe.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we're bringing in the extra walkers today," Gareth said, making sure to keep his eyes trained on Cynthia's eyes and not her body while she hastily put her slacks back on.

She nodded and pulled her shirt over her head. "I know, I know. I just needed to..." She turned and looked back at the walker that lazily grabbed for her, just three feet away from its decayed hand.

"We'll go," Theresa declared, stepping forward towards Gareth.

Cynthia nodded at Gareth again before sheepishly rushing out of the room.

"What was she doing?" Gareth asked, gesturing behind him with his thumb.

Theresa strolled over and stopped in front of him. "She was upset about David and Maddie, so I said she should come here with me to blow off some steam. Next thing you know, she's telling me how she was _sure_ it was that one who got her... you know, pregnant. So she took off her shirt and pants and handed them to me and started grabbing at herself, 'teasing' it or something. She seemed to be happy with it so I let her."

Gareth took another look at the walker and then back to Theresa. "She ever done that before? _You_ ever done that before?"

Theresa scoffed. "Strip for my dead rapist? No, I like seeing it here, but it doesn't have the same effect telling them they have a small, sad prick when they're dead and can't appreciate it. Like I told Jacko last week when we hosed out his car. And I don't know if she's ever done it before."

Jacko was the recent nickname given to the leader of the Occupiers by Mitch who had called him 'jackoff' each time he got the opportunity, leading to the eventual 'Jacko.'

Gareth puckered out his bottom lip in response and looked past her to the walker which continued to make obnoxious racket. "Hey buddy, I'm trying to have a conversation."

Theresa let out a small laugh at Gareth's joke before saying, "I'll see Cynthia to her watch duty." She then passed Gareth and headed toward the exit. She didn't often express amusement at his jokes, Gareth considered her reaction a victory.

"Hey wait," Gareth said, turning to face the archway. Theresa halted and spun around. "You and Cynthia on the mends?" he asked.

Theresa shrugged slightly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don't want to throw a vase at _her_ anymore, so that's good. I'll see you," she explained before waving in departure.

"And now we wait," Gareth said to himself. He had planned to meet Wesley, Martin and Greg who had been assigned to help bring four walkers—one at a time—and restrain them for their impending 'eating contest,' as Martin had put it.

Gareth glanced down at his watch and read the time 11:08am, eight minutes late. He didn't care for lateness.

Right as he was about to leave and attempt to find the three, the walker's moans behind him having long since become white noise, he heard the voices and shuffling of the three men along with a new set of undead vocals.

Gareth quickly stepped out the archway to see Greg pulling along a red-haired, male walker and Martin and Wesley along side it. They had taken a cane and hooked the handle around the creature's neck, then tied a rope around it to keep it from slipping. They had also bound its hands behind its back with another string of rope.

"Hey, you're late you know," Gareth said, attempting to convey a humorous tone that instead came out peeved.

"_You_ try catchin' these things without gettin' mauled to death," Greg replied, annoyed.

Gareth held up his hand. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized as he stood out of the way.

"Hey, Charlie, you got a friend," Martin said to the walker beside him as the three entered the room.

"You named it?" Gareth asked, not particularly surprised Martin would do such a thing.

"Yeah, it's my middle name. Meanin' this guy's the second almost-son I ever had," he kidded.

Gareth thought Martin looked particularly good that day. He wasn't wearing any baseball cap, which Gareth had to admit he grew tired of, was clean-shaven and appeared well-rested. Martin had been one of the fortune ones to not get sick.

"Wesley, you want to be the one to tease it?" Gareth asked as he thought of Cynthia's stunt.

"Uh, yeah just let me..." Wesley trailed off as he stepped a safe distance in front of Charlie the walker who was still being held back by Greg. The undead then focused its attention on Wesley, while the Occupier's walker kept averting its attention between the four living men.

"Hey wait, 'almost son?'" Gareth recalled Martin's remark. Martin had told Gareth he'd been married briefly to someone out of convenience, but he'd never mentioned possible children.

"Oh," Martin began as he walked over and pulled up the chains that had been nailed to the floor, "after me and my wife had been divorced like two minutes, she came and told me she was pregnant, and didn't know whose it was and bla, bla, bla," he elaborated as he handed Gareth part of the chain and Greg lifted up the struggling walker's hand restraints. "And I spent months and months goin' 'oh fuck, please no.' Then the day she has the kid, I get down there and see the baby is black, like, really dark. Off the hook instantly."

Gareth, Greg and Wesley collectively laughed at Martin's tale as Gareth and Martin fastened the chains around the walker's waist.

Martin sighed, half-amused and half irritated. "I'm glad you think it's so funny."

"Oh come on, man. That shit's comedy gold," Wesley declared as he threw a teasing swipe at Charlie and stepped back while it grasped for him.

Gareth had never heard that story before. He'd been able to get out a few facts about Martin, but didn't want to pry lest be overburdened with emotional pillow talk. He then thought of the last time they slept together, the blissful act of what had become the nearly effortless action of stretching his lover open with fingers coated in a warm-on-contact lubricant. How he had lost himself so easily while inside the man, feeling his eagerness rub up against his stomach as he rolled his hips into his while they exclaimed the other's name. Followed by the serene calm of the endorphins that rushed through his system afterwards.

Once again, Gareth looked Martin over, admiring how attractive he looked and planned to get him into bed later that night, despite his fatigue.

They then spent a long and laborious amount of time bringing in the other walkers. In the end, five of the creatures resided in the dank room.

"Let's test this out," Gareth declared, giving Martin a slap on his shoulder. "We'll get it," he told Wesley and Greg who nodded in reply.

As they made their way side-by-side to the butchery room, the one they used to further separate what's edible from what's not, Martin threw a sly smile at Gareth.

"Hey Gare," Martin began flirtatiously, twitching his eyebrows upwards, "would it be too much to bend me over, or you bend over, one of them steel tables in the killin' floor?" he propositioned as Gareth pulled open the door to the place in question.

"Martin, I mean _sweetie pie_," he teased as he stepped into the room, "we're just here to get the waste."

Martin sighed, disappointed, and followed Gareth through the currently unoccupied room. "Okay, then just one thing." He then grabbed Gareth's wrist, moved in front of him and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips.

Gareth kissed back, just as wet, sloppy and uninhibited. The way Martin always made him feel when their bodies were close, the only time he allowed himself to be unrestrained.

"Your mouth drives me crazy," Martin said onto Gareth's lips.

Gareth smiled wide at his words and took a step back, Martin's hand still gripping his wrist. "Hey, _later_," he insisted.

Martin then released his hold and beamed back at him. "Yeah, alright. Let's feed the damn geeks."

* * *

><p>Alex had awoken with a gnawing feeling in his gut. He'd assumed his first night back in his own bed after spending several in the infirmary would be riddled with dreams about the previous days and deaths of Maddie and David, he instead dreamed of something fantastically happy. He dreamed Theresa was pregnant and the both of them were overjoyed. The general rule against pregnancies at Terminus having not existed in that case.<p>

He had tried his best not to think of having children since the turn, but after he began a serious relationship with Theresa, he couldn't help his mind from wandering at times and imagining having them with her. One day while he was washing dishes, he wondered what he and Theresa's child might look like. If he or she would have wavy or straight hair, if it would be dark or maybe strawberry blonde like Mary's. If maybe they would be artistic, or dyslexic like himself. And if perhaps they would have an excellent math ability or be rough around the edges like their mother.

He did know one thing for sure, their child would be a cannibal.

_Bad enough to bring a kid into this hellscape of a world, but with doing what we do? That's just cruel_, Alex had thought in no uncertain terms.

Also, he knew they'd be bringing a child into a world with no more immunizations. It would be a great risk as childhood diseases would not have disappeared just because of the turn. Labor would be especially complicated without modern medicine since before it, many women died during childbirth. The risk was too great and he felt he had to accept that.

Attempting to banish thoughts of the dream from his mind, Alex sat by himself with legs folded inside the church in the same spot he'd first tried to kiss Theresa. He thought of the locket he'd placed on Priscilla's marker that had since long gone. Never had he asked or known what happened to it since it had disappeared within days of its placement.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, but he'd stared into the candle flames for so long he saw bright spots when he looked away. It must have at least been half an hour, he figured, and someone would show up any second to inform him it was time for the memorial feast of bread and wine. Alex thought the wine part was odd being that they didn't drink blood, but he supposed the excuse to get drunk was something everyone needed, or at least those who weren't on watch. Those who were assigned the task would either attend the party and not drink, or be on watch during and attend at a later time. Alex's plans were of the former.

An impulse to move over to his father's marker struck him and he then stood up, causing his legs to ache from his former idle position. He then walked over and sunk down in front of the name, sitting on his feet and trailing his hand over the name 'Ellwood' in white paint.

"Hi, dad," he said softly. Despite the fact that Michael's body wasn't buried beneath his marker, he and most people treated the church as an official cemetery.

Alex then placed his hand on the acoustic guitar that rest beside his father's name and pulled at one of the center strings, creating a pleasant, low note. The corner of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly at the soothing sound, alleviating some of his melancholy.

The sound of the door creaking open then averted his attention, and he immediately rose to see whomever it was, assuming someone had finally come to get him.

"There you are," Camille said as she stepped in. "We've already started."

Alex nodded and made his way over to Camille as she turned and he followed her to the rec room.

"Um," Camille began as she stopped just short of the room's entrance, "some people are dressed a little... nicer." She looked Alex up and down.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "What?" He then noticed Camille's dark grey slacks topped with a black sweater and black leather loafers. The kind of clothes people would sometimes wear at night during their free time. He figured his faded, orange hoodie wasn't exactly 'nicer.' "Oh, okay I can go change..." He began to turn.

"No, nevermind, it's alright." Camille held up her hand. "Come on," she encouraged as she stepped through the doorway.

Alex saw most people _were_ dressed a tad classier. However, not all of them donned dark clothes like Camille. Gareth had spoken of making the event unlike an old world funeral, all black and somber, and instead a celebration of and dedication to the people David and Maddie were. Alex wondered what people would say of David the butcher. If they would illustrate 'chopped up human bodies for a living' as one of his accomplishments. But he had recalled hearing David speak of his former employment as a commercial fisherman before the turn. And he seemed to have been a good husband to his wife.

He scanned the room, looking for Gareth first and spotted him standing next to Samantha. His brother wore a dressy, red button-up shirt and was speaking to the obviously unhappy woman while she had her arms folded and eyes planted on the floor. Alex decided to join them despite the fact that he knew Gareth would be miffed by his lateness. In fact, Alex felt bad he'd knowingly missed part of it as well.

While on his way, he surveyed the room once more, this time looking for Mary or Theresa. A sudden hand on his shoulder made him stop and he turned around to see Theresa holding a clear glass. Its bottom was touched with the remnants of what he figured was the red wine. He wasn't sure if he would tell her of his dream, but he did know that this was certainly not the place.

"Hey, there you are," she said with a grin, one Alex thought was a bit odd considering the circumstance.

"Yeah, Camille pulled me in here," he said before noticing her short, blue dress with long sleeves and a colorful floral print decorating various parts of it, something he'd never seen her in before. "Wow," he proclaimed, looking her over and admiring the way the garment hugged her figure.

Theresa laughed. "I knew you'd like it. Hey, you want a little wine, or should I say _blood_," she comically whispered the last word, raising her free hand beside her mouth.

_Is she drunk? Already?_

"I signed-up to be one of the designated drivers, didn't I tell you?" Alex volunteered because he didn't much care for alcohol. At least not since an unpleasant blackout experience when he was nineteen.

Her face crumpled "_Oh_ _no._ Getting stoned with you is so much fun, I wanted to get wasted with you too." She stuck out her bottom lip sadly.

Normally, Alex would have been amused by her state, but he wanted to know how she'd become intoxicated so quickly. If maybe she'd sneaked extra wine before the gathering began, or perhaps she just happened to be an easy drunk. He wished for the latter. The concern that the death of her mother weighed on her shoulders too much to be comfortable still lingered. He hoped it wasn't still so insufferable as to want to drink the pain away. Or if not for her mother, maybe Maddie and David's demise had shaken her up more than he'd thought.

Alex forced out a chuckle. "Yeah well, I was gonna go talk to-" he turned to see Samantha standing by herself again, Gareth having gone, "-Samantha," he finished. Although he wanted to get apologizing to Gareth out of the way first, he thought he _should_ comfort the woman.

"Oh," Theresa said, her voice falling as she glanced at Samantha, "she's really messed-up."

"Yeah well, who wouldn't be?"

Theresa's affect suddenly became remorseful. "Yeah, maybe this whole three glasses of wine thing is insensitive, I should go."

"Whoa, no you don't have to go." Alex lightly placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her. "We weren't supposed to mope around for this whole thing, remember?"

She gazed at him for a few seconds before replying with an understanding nod, her face relaxing again. He then spotted his mother over her shoulder and she waved them over to the table she stood by. It was filled with baked loaves of bread and the red wine that was usually sealed-up, only taken out for special occasions like these. The metaphorical meal was not meant as a full dinner, as many people would undoubtedly seek meat to fill themselves properly afterwards. After all, they knew they couldn't live on bread alone.

The rest of the gathering went well, and Gareth made a speech on David and Maddie's lives and thanked them for their service. Samantha eventually came forward along with two of Maddie's closest friends and said a few words about the two. People responded with laughter at their sillier memories, and shouts of gratitude and support when the topic became more serious.

At the end, Alex saw Samantha appear somewhat more at ease. He assumed she'd been wary of the more celebratory tone they had adopted for the two's funerals. The dead from the Siege hadn't gotten that sort of send-off, but it was understandable. The living Terminants were walking shells powered by malnourished brains at the time.

Priscilla's send-off was solemn and quiet, but it was another new territory, a break of the glass.

This 'funeral' was an entirely new idea, spearheaded by Gareth and Mary. And despite Alex's initial apprehension about the lighter tone of the memorial service, he saw how much better it mitigated people's emotions than old world send-offs which usually seemed to worsen the despair.

Alex sat on the sofa between Mary and Theresa. The same couch he and his mother had comforted Theresa on while Karen was being butchered. Gareth had only offered an acknowledging nod at his brother's presence and hadn't said a word to him, not even scolding him for being late. Which in an odd way, offended Alex. He tried to chalk Gareth's behavior up to the wine, but he couldn't help being hurt that the guy whose life he was worried for had virtually ignored him during such an important event.

He grit his teeth together as he watched Gareth talk to people while Mary and Theresa spoke of something he wasn't paying any attention to.

"You look like a lumberjack," Theresa giggled as she patted at the plaid shirt Alex had changed into shortly before the speeches.

Alex shook his head and smiled lightly, averting his attention away from Gareth.

He hadn't seen Theresa drink anymore, but she remained tipsy throughout the service. He thought it odd, she'd told him she was 'never much of a party girl,' which he took to mean she didn't enjoy drinking. Her actions continued to cause him worry that she was self-medicating. Although, he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt for the time being. After all, everyone deserved a drink after what had happened.

"Oh, didn't you want to go talk to Samantha? She's all alone," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I probably should," Alex replied, looking over in the widow's direction where she stood by herself.

"Go, I talked to her earlier. She's been so strong, I'm impressed," Mary commented. His mother had only had one glass of wine and hadn't become noticeably inebriated, which he had to admit he was grateful for.

Alex wasted no time, stood up and slowly strode over beside the woman who looked eager to leave. "Hey Sam," he began, catching her attention from its former place on Gavin, "how you doin'?"

She welcomed him with a polite smile, some of which he thought may be genuine. "I'm alive," she nearly mumbled. "How are you?" she added.

He couldn't imagine why a woman who'd just lost her husband would care how_ he_ was feeling. "Like I'm out of place. Not drinkin', you know," he replied.

"Oh, on watch later?"

"Yeah, lucky me, don't know when I got so responsible," he joked before softening his tone, "hey um, I'm really sorry about David. I know everyone says that, but he was one of us and he did the nastiest job around here. Somethin' I don't even think I got the guts enough to do, and we owe him our lives for that." He focused his eyes on her weary ones which he could tell had shed many tears over the past few days.

Samantha expressed a gracious nod. "I know you mean that, thank you. And you're wrong, you do have the guts. You're not like Priscilla."

Alex pursed his lips. "Yeah well, I _have_ thought about it though, goin' lights out," he admitted.

"We all have. Even the most stoic of us all."

Alex had a feeling she was speaking of Gareth. His brother hadn't ever spoken of suicidal thoughts, but they must have flitted across his mind at least once, he thought. "What about now?" he asked before he could debate whether or not it was too personal a question.

Samantha broke eye contact and glanced down at her folded arms. "I'd be a liar if I said... said it hasn't been on mind since he's gone but... I have a job to do."

_A job to do. _That was one of the principals Terminus was built on, and it did work. On the days that were held captive by more dark memories than light_,_ simple daily tasks and procedures kept the body and mind moving. If you're not moving forward, then you're going backwards, as Gareth always said._  
><em>

Alex began to reply when he noticed Gareth and Martin standing by the wall about ten feet behind her. Martin had unbuttoned the top button of Gareth's shirt and was caressing the exposed skin while saying something to him as they exchanged a lecherous look. Alex felt immediately uncomfortable and decided it was time to leave, even though he'd be reaching his post a little early.

"Yeah, I get you. Well, it's about time for me to head out. You try to have a good night's rest, Sam."

* * *

><p>Martin hung around in his room, the effects of the alcohol lingering enough to where he still felt quite good, albeit bored. He waited for Gareth somewhat impatiently while analyzed the silver Rolex watch he wore on his wrist. It had come from a man who'd arrived with his wife several weeks prior who carried a few expensive items they'd owned before the turn. He recalled the man mentioning how he'd made over a million dollars a year before the outbreak and laughed about keeping a few mementos of his former life for good measure.<p>

_"These rich pricks don't taste no different than any in-bred, white trash fool that y'all cut-up in there,"_ Martin had told Gavin and Mitch while dining on the woman.

Martin carried a sick satisfaction that 'upper-class' people who survived the change had to live in the same manner he did before he arrived at Terminus. On the move, dirty, hungry, constantly looking over their shoulder. He hadn't liked his parents much, but he still thought of his father telling him that every man's grave is the same size in the end, no matter who he was.

He turned the watch around his wrist, speculating on the steep price tag that had once been attached to it.

_Eight-hundred? Twelve-hundred?_ he mused over its cost.

A knock on the door sounded, breaking him out of his thoughts. Relief came over him knowing Gareth had come to free him of his boredom.

He sat up from the edge of his bed and made his way to his door to accept the man into his room. He was more than surprised to open the door and see Theresa standing there, holding a mug full of something steaming.

"You lost?" Martin asked. The only possible reason he could think of as to why Theresa of all people would show up at his door was to hook-up with him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it before, but he considered her a five who could be a seven only if she dropped the attitude. Even Alex had briefly crossed his mind, theorizing that he was the kind of sweet and humble guy who one wouldn't think housed a huge dick, but did. He regretted not asking Theresa if his theory was true earlier when she may have been intoxicated enough to give an answer.

"Do you have any of that amaretto left?" she asked, an antsy look on her face.

_Oh, she wants more booze_, he realized. He assumed the wine's effects had worn off on her.

"Not copin' well, huh?"

"Please? Just a little for my hot chocolate, to help me sleep."

Martin had half a mind to tell her to fuck off, he still didn't like her much, in fact he thought she was an absolute bitch who needed a dose of Midol. And despite her no longer considering him a possible rapist, she still treated him like an outsider. She never paid much mind to Hayley or Allison either, he was pretty sure she still didn't like sharing room and board with people who hadn't been around during the Siege.

"You got some nerve, you know. The fuck would I give _you_ somethin' for?"

Theresa exhaled, clearly she understood his reservations. "Because I'm saying 'please.' And I'll... I'll owe you something and you can loiter it over my head." She shrugged.

"Hm, and you just _assume_ 'cause I like it up the ass, I drink amaretto like a damn queer? That's _insulting_," he said with an amused smile.

She grimaced at his remark, then sighed. "Do you have it or not?"

Martin bowed his head down. "Yeah, I got it," he replied. He then turned and waved her inside. "You don't gotta stand out there."

"I don't want to stay, I just want the amaretto," she half-whispered.

"Come in or you don't get any," he declared as he crossed his arms.

"Ugh, _fine_," she griped as she walked in and shut the door behind her.

Martin saw her grip on the mug tighten and her eyes dart around the room as if waiting for something to jump out and attack her. Her reaction made him think about changing his mind and telling her to get out, but he wondered if he could make her snap by going too slow in his retrieval of the alcohol.

"You ain't gonna get a disease from bein' in here," he said as he crouched down by his bed and pulled out a half-full bottle of amaretto.

"I know. You're much tidier than I thought."

Martin didn't know whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, probably both. He ignored it and stood up and popped the lid off the top of the container, then swished the liquid around inside. He turned to see Theresa very obviously impatient and annoyed with his sloth, just the reaction he was going for.

He took a lazy step forward and tilted the bottle sideways, positioning the nozzle over her cup and allowed a small flow of the stuff to mix with her cocoa before bringing it back up.

"Um, a little more than that?" she requested in a small voice.

"Only if you say 'I wub you Martin,'" he demanded in a sing-song voice.

Theresa sighed once again, loudly. "I wub you Martin," she mumbled, avoiding his eyes and looking down at her mug.

Martin smiled wide and chuckled, he didn't think she would actually do it. "Well, damn. Have extra even." He tipped the bottle sideways once more and let a good bit pour into the hot chocolate before bringing it back.

"Thank you," she said as she locked his eyes on his, her gratitude seeming sincere.

"Anything for my old middle-of-the-night, sharin' and carin' buddy," he said of the near-dawn Theresa had come to the train car and spoken with him about Riley.

"Right." She gave a small smile and hurried out the door in a flash.

* * *

><p>Theresa quickly drained her cup of the hot chocolate and amaretto as she ambled through the corridors. She then rinsed her mouth out with baking soda to rid it of the flavor and scent of alcohol. The warm buzz had already taken effect when she made her way back to her room to find Alex already lying in bed. She eagerly joined him under the covers and used him as a human body pillow, resting her head where the still-healing wound resided under his shirt. An extra buzz of warmth ran through her as he wrapped his arms around her.<p>

"You sobered-up enough?" Alex asked as he trailed his fingers through her hair.

Theresa felt guilt at his question, she hadn't intended to tell him of her trip to Martin's room. "Yeah," she lied.

_Shit, that was bad_, she thought.

_It's not like I can keep doing this, all alcohol around here is locked-up. Except for Martin's, and no way am I going there again._

She hoped Alex would be quiet and allow her to drift off and sleep a deep, dreamless sleep. One she hadn't had since her mother died. Just one dreamless night was all she wanted.

Alex didn't say anything for a long time after that, but when Theresa began to nod off, he spoke again, "I had a dream last night."

Her eyes flew open, his words pulling her out of her pre-sleep haze. She didn't reply, but she adjusted her position slightly to let him know she heard.

"I dreamed... I dreamed you were pregnant." His voice nearly caught on the last word.

Theresa jerked her head up, alarm rising in her at the thought. "I'm not pregnant," she said firmly.

They hadn't before discussed children, ever. She hadn't asked, but she knew Alex wanted children, or used to. The way he'd been with the kids who inhabited Terminus before the Siege gave it away. She figured the topic of why they couldn't would eventually come up, but not now.

_Why now?_

Alex laughed lightly. "I _know_ you're not pregnant, it was just a dream. And you, me and everyone was happy. You'd just found out."

Theresa had been completely removed from her relaxed state. "Here? At Terminus?"

"Yep, here." His voice carried a hint of sadness.

"We can't," she stated.

"I know. But if we could, if we lived in that apartment with the dog that barked at 2AM, would you want to?"

"Of course," she responded immediately, smiling fondly at the memory of the fantasy they spoke of the night they spent in Atlanta. Theresa hadn't thought much about children before the turn, assuming she'd have them when she met someone who was worth having them with. Alex was definitely that person.

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't think about this too much." Alex backtracked.

She moved her hand up and down his arm in comfort. "It's okay, it's good we talked about it."

"It's funny, I feel like I lost somethin'. But how do you lose somethin' you never had?"

Theresa had a feeling his thoughts were headed somewhere dark, somewhere they didn't have to go. "We work with the hand we're dealt, and ours isn't the best one, but it's one we were given. We have to accept the it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

So that's it for this end! I'm not sure when I'll be ready to put up part two, but it won't be too long, I promise. And it's gonna be hella kawaii.

The next part's format will be a bit different, a bit more like a book (when this was written like episodes of a TV show), shorter chapters posted more frequently (which will also be beta-read). And this time I have a clear idea of what I want to do from the start.  
>This work was originally just going to be a few chapters describing their initial hunger and etc. I didn't start this intending to write an epic ;)<p>

And a special shout out to **outwriter18** for their very, very helpful concrit! **  
><strong>


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